


Ylvis Saves the World 4:  In 3D and IMAX

by LillieWescott



Series: Ylvis Saves the World [7]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher, Ylvis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Brotherly Affection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Magic, Male Friendship, Mystery, Mythology References, Nightmares, Rescue Missions, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 102,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7392166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillieWescott/pseuds/LillieWescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the monster attacks in Tokyo, Bård's family is threatened.  He and his brother turn to a Chicago wizard called Harry Dresden for help.   And, you know, they also save the world.  Because Ylvis.</p><p>(Calle helps too because Calle.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Ch 1: Down on the Farm

**Author's Note:**

> As always, there is a happy ending and no children or fluffy animals are harmed. The violence in this story is far less gory than in YStW3 (that was too scary even for me!); but there are descriptions of blood and violence. I'll try to keep it PG-13. Also, as usual, I apologize for not writing the boys’ dialogue in Nynorsk. But I can barely write in Bokmål (In fact, as I learn more Norwegian I realize I owe a sincere apology to all of Norway for my mortifyingly abysmal Norwegian in the Ylvis vs Godzilla story.)  
> I plead enthusiasm>>education.

[](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/0f7a471b-f5bf-4489-9750-0d12f74ff350_zpsw2fwp4o3.jpg.html)

**PROLOGUE: Summer 2015**

_Vegard Ylvisåker was late. And every musty corridor in this sagging old building looked the same. Had he been down this hall already? Helvete, they were all waiting for him and he was late. He was never late. He couldn’t run his company properly if he was late. He swiped his overlong dark curls out of his eyes and squinted at the room numbers. This was 622. Wrong floor. He climbed the cement steps of a dank stairwell, banging the hardshell case of his unwieldy cello over and over against the handrail. He looked up. A damp page had been torn from his aviation weather book. It was duct taped to the landing door's rusted surface, his name scrawled in wet paint across the bleeding print. Finally. He yanked open the door._

_His production team looked up as one, united in their disapproval._

_He gulped and glanced down at himself. He was wearing only the towel he'd wrapped around his hips this morning. He wanted to be professional. It was not professional to come late to meetings in a towel. Satan, even his younger brother Bård was already here. Bård was the late one. Not Vegard. He tugged self-consciously at the towel. It barely covered him._

_Bård grunted, “We’ve been waiting.”_

_Vegard put down the cello and turned to his wife._

_She held out a pair of latex gloves for him and whispered, "You're better than this."_

_Bård asked, “Vegard?”_

_Vegard sighed and inspected his younger brother._

_Bård lay on his back, his ten-year-old body covered in blue surgical towels. The left side of his chest had been pried open, the ribs sawn through and stretched apart like a crown roast. The coppery odor of his exposed and still-beating heart wove into the salty seaside odor of Bergen’s fishmarket. Fish? Vegard had forgotten his lunch at home. And his mother had packed his favorite meal. She was going to be angry. Everyone was angry with him today._

_Someone handed him a power drill._

_He hefted the drill; it was nicely balanced. But it was fitted with a battered 50mm hole saw. That couldn’t be right. He needed a screwdriver tip, surely. “I don’t think this will work.”_

_Bård clucked at him. “Read the directions.”_

_Vegard squinted at the unfamiliar script on the side of the drill. “I can’t read this. Where's this from?”_

_"IKEA. Look at the pictures."_

_"There are none. I can't do this."_

_“There’s no one else. Faen! Now my arm fell off!” Bård held up his severed arm and shook it angrily. It looked like the arm of a store mannequin._

_“That’s not your arm.”_

_"Don't be absurd. Help me put it back on.”_

_Vegard grabbed hold of the arm, but blood spurted rhythmically from Bård’s heart, higher and higher, splashing into Vegard’s eyes. He got a mouthful and spat it out, gagging. “I can’t see. Stop bleeding on me.”_

_“I’m going to die and it’s your fault."_

_“I can't fix this!”_

_Bård sighed, "I can never count on you."_

_Vegard froze as the demon his brother called "Bob" hissed into his ear, "You can't save him. You can't save anyone. You can't even save yourself."_

_The spray of blood became a torrent, swirling around the table, rising with terrifying speed. Within seconds Bård and the others disappeared in the flood, their screaming cut off by the rushing crimson water._

 

Vegard woke up. Again. He clutched his pillow and gasped into the sweat-soaked white pillowcase, "Just a dream just a dream just a dream..." He squinted at the bedside clock. It wasn’t even 3 am. He fumbled for his iPhone and held it with both hands close against his still-pounding chest. He was sure he wouldn’t have to wait long. Not long.

He sucked in a long ragged breath, and then another, and another. He had to relax. _Bare en drøm_. Just another bad dream. It didn’t mean anything. He listened for his wife Helene. She should be lying beside him... behind him... on their bed. He was too frightened to look to see if she was still there. Then he heard her slow, steady breathing. He concentrated, using her calm breaths to steady his own. At least he hadn’t woken her up this time by yelling in his sleep or something equally stupid.

A minute or so passed before the phone silently came to life. Finally. The light was blinding. He squinted with one eye at the screen. A text from Bård:

_“Are you okay?”_  
_“Ja. You?”_  
_“Okay.”_  
_“Need me?”_  
_“Not tonight. You?”_  
_“Nei."_  
_"See you at the farm.”_  
_“Okay Good night.”_  
_“Sleep well.”_

Vegard carefully placed his phone back on the white wooden nightstand and rolled onto his back. He concentrated on slowing his pulse, counting his breaths. In. Out. Slow down. Just a dream. He stared up at the ceiling as his vision readjusted to the dark, toward the wandering crack in the plaster he knew was there. He kept meaning to patch it, but that little crack had been his companion almost every night in the year since Tokyo; it felt disloyal to mend it.

He listened carefully. He could hear their home creaking a bit, as always. Nothing else. He expected his children were sound asleep. He fought down the urge to check on them and wondered if Bård still checked on his kids. Bård's oldest was fourteen and evidently she locked her bedroom door these days in protest. He couldn't blame her. Bård had been waking his kids several times a night just to be sure they were still breathing. Vegard understood.

He sighed. He could see the crack in the ceiling now even without his glasses. The late summer Norwegian night peeked through the space between the blackout curtains; it was just enough light to see the little black fissure snaking through the plaster above him. He'd intentionally painted everything in their room white so there would be no distractions when he woke up like this. Maybe he should have painted the ceiling black. He smiled, imagining Helene's reaction if he did so. But he should really patch that crack. It would only take a few minutes. It was stupid not to have done it already.

He was cold. He lifted the clammy edge of his sweat-dampened comforter; it felt disgusting. But to get up and change the duvet would wake Helene. It was pointless for them both to be exhausted. He gingerly folded the heavy white cotton away from his body and plucked off the damp, clinging boxers and T-shirt he'd optimistically worn to bed. He reached for the white chenille throw he kept beside the bed for this exact circumstance and tried to enjoy its cozy texture.

He rolled on his side and watched Helene sleeping for several long minutes. He could just make out her smooth, Nordic features and her long blonde hair spread out over her pillow. She looked so peaceful. How could she have stayed so calm for all this time? She had been infinitely patient with him for years, even before Tokyo. It was more than he deserved.

He finally felt the pull of exhaustion and closed his eyes, visualizing a cozy yellow cottage with flowers on its roof. He concentrated on the bright rosemaling decorating its door, and traced every painted flower petal and leaf in his head, just as the sleep therapist had taught him. It wouldn't take long to fall asleep again.

He just hoped he wouldn’t dream.

 

* * * * *

[ ](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/38ad401b-3815-4f16-af95-95f0bfa0bdc1_zpsavxi6fc2.jpg.html)

**Chapter 1: Down on the Farm**

“We’re here!” Vegard smiled at his wife and glanced in the rear view mirror of the family van. Although the drive had only taken an hour, their three young children were all fast asleep in their seats.

He parked the car on the gravel drive in front of the Andresen’s white farmhouse and repeated, a bit louder, “We’re here!”

His oldest blinked her dark eyes blearily at him through dark curls that matched his own. She asked, “Are you sure there will be birthday cake?”

"I'm sure!”

“Rabbits?”

He grinned back at her. “Rabbits! And baby goats!”

Helene chuckled and stepped out of the car. She stretched her arms gratefully and then leaned down again to peer in at him, her blonde hair catching the late-morning sunlight.

She said, “Bård and Maria’s car is already here. We must be late.”

Vegard frowned at Bård's Toyota, parked accusingly beside them. “I'm never late.”

Helene grinned. “Of course. I forgot. I’ll get the baby; can you get the kids out of their seats?”

"Of course."

As Vegard collected his daughter and her younger brother, the front door of the farmhouse opened and their hostess stepped into the sunshine. Sif Andresen was a petite woman and her billowing white peasant blouse and red, white and blue flowered skirt made her seem even smaller. Her honey blond hair was pulled back into a single braid that lay neatly over her right shoulder. Some things never changed.

Sif cried out with excitement and rushed to meet them. She flung her arms around Helene and the baby and then knelt to greet the children. Then she blinked up at Vegard with pale ice-blue eyes and said simply, “ _Storebror_.”

He pulled her up and gave her a warm hug. “Happy Birthday. I’ve missed you, _Lilliesøster_.” He held her at arm's length to inspect her. As always, she looked the picture of health. “I can't believe you had a baby only two weeks ago. You look great."

She blushed. Vegard hadn't meant to embarrass her.

Helene nodded warmly at Sif. "You really do look beautiful. Don't you ever get tired?"

Sif’s eyes sparkled with pleasure. “I have a lot of help. And Jens keeps me very happy. But I’m so glad you decided to spend some of your summer holiday with us! Don't worry about your luggage; we’ll get it later. Just come in and eat, we even made cake!" She looked down at the children and reassured them. "Cake just the way you like it!"

The children gave a cheer and followed Sif as she dashed back toward the front door. At the door she turned briefly and beckoned Vegard and Helene to follow her inside.

As they walked toward the house, Helene smiled and said, “She's definitely going to ask you again."

"Do you think so?"

"I’m sure of it. I talked to her last week and told her it was up to you.”

 _“Oi, oi, oi, oi._ Are you all against me?”

“Of course not. But it’s a tradition, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you feel sad if one day she didn’t ask?”

Vegard shook his head. _“Drit i det._ Bård already encourages her to pester me."

“She’s such a sweetheart and I owe her your life."

"And I owe her yours."

"Maybe. But it would be selfish to keep your dark looks all to myself, wouldn't it?”

“Now you’re joking.”

Helene grinned. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

"You would only agree to that because you know I'll always say no."

"Are you saying that I trust you?"

"Or trying to get rid of me."

 _"Nei,_ of course not."

"Unfortunately you are stuck with what little there is of me.”

Helene smiled. "I'll manage."

Vegard took her arm and helped her step into the house.

Sif and Big Jens's home was large, airy and friendly. The solid wood floors were scattered with colorful braided rugs and sturdy wooden furniture the Andresens had made themselves. Brightly colored art by the children decorated the walls beside Jens's more practiced oil paintings. It was all a bit visually jarring to Vegard, but Sif insisted on a rainbow of colors in her home; she said more traditional monochromatic Norwegian decor recalled unhappy memories from her childhood.

The Andresens made more than a modest income selling Jens's art and furnishings, and Sif supplemented that with her small veterinary practice. She used to call on the sheep and cow farmers in the area, but since the Titan attacks last year she’d spent most of her time in her garden with her children and her own animals. Sif and her husband were both fiercely independent, and Vegard knew they probably could survive just fine without ever leaving their farm. They seemed content, but their life still seemed lonely.

Of course Sif wasn't Vegard's sister by blood. He and his younger brother Bård met Sif fifteen years ago in Midwestern America after being kidnapped by a Satanic cult. (Vegard had given up trying to figure out why his life was so bizarre.) Back then Sif had lived a harsh and frightening life on the cult's isolated farm in Illinois. Although she was only fourteen at the time, she'd bravely helped them to escape. Afterwards she made depositions against their kidnappers and the newspapers all reported she had died shortly thereafter. But the FBI and Norwegian government had covertly relocated her to Norway through the American Witness Protection Program. After changing her name from Ruby to Sif, she'd been adopted by a family living on a farm north of Oslo.

Sif had flourished in her new, infinitely healthier surroundings. She'd been a stellar student and had even been admitted to a prestigious veterinary school in Oslo. She'd graduated with honors, of course. She'd also managed to have three children in the process, and another two after her studies were complete. She was nothing if not industrious.

A year after her graduation, Sif's adoptive parents were killed in a car accident while away on holiday. Soon after, she married her boyfriend Jens in the farmhouse where she’d spent so many happy years, and they made the place their own.

Today, as always, Sif's house was filled with the sounds of children. As Vegard removed his jacket and shoes, he spotted Sif's oldest daughter Honey, almost ten years old, chatting with Bård's two girls as the younger children ran around and between them like excited puppies on espresso. All three girls were simultaneously talking to each other, reprimanding the younger kids, and texting rapidly into their smartphones. Vegard was thankful for all the rugs and tapestries in the room, or the noise would have been deafening.

Standing in the corner and intently watching the girls was Sif’s oldest child, a quiet 11-year-old boy with a mop of blond curls called Jonas. He was wistfully staring at Bård’s daughter Nora. Jonas was only a bit older than Nora and he had been blatantly in love with her before either of them knew how to speak. Nora pretended not to notice. Bård’s oldest girl Sofie loved to tease Jonas about his “secret love”. Adolescent girls were merciless.

A constant stream of children ran or toddled in and out through the large open doors that led to a flower garden on the south side of the house, where swings and a sturdy jungle gym were set up. Vegard's own smaller children quickly ran to join the fray of younger kids. Among the mob Vegard's kids were easy to spot; they'd inherited his unusual dark eyes and hair, and stood out among all the other blonder children in the place. But they’d shaken off their sleepiness from the trip and were already laughing and shouting with the others.

Sif's husband Jens (or "Big Jens" as they'd taken to calling him since Bård's son Jens was born) was a big-shouldered blond-haired man with a ruddy complexion and laughing eyes. He was out in the garden, dusting off his hands from some task or other, and had their two-week-old baby girl in a baby carrier strapped to his chest. The baby was sound asleep. He waved a friendly hello to Vegard, turned his head and called out, " _Oi!_ Bård. The old man is here!"

Bård appeared and knelt down to intercept his niece and nephew to give them quick hugs. He called out, "You're late!"

“I’m never late.” Vegard held up a bottle. “I remembered to bring wine this time!"

_"Enden er nær."_

"You didn’t start early?”

Bård stepped towards them and hugged Helene carefully. As he tickled the baby's chin he said, “We arrived this morning. We already ate all of the food.”

Vegard glanced at the long dining table, laden with a ridiculous amount of fruit, fresh bread, smoked salmon and vegetables. "I think we can get by on the scraps."


	2. Presents

[](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/77036440-9af1-44f6-93c2-39bc060057fd_zpshlgpyx1j.jpg.html)

Chapter 2 Presents

 

Bård was pleased that the children were exhausted by the day’s play; the youngest ones were in their beds by 7pm. Perhaps wearing the children out was Sif’s secret to managing her mob of children and still having time for her animals and her husband. Sif and Jens managed to keep all the children clean, happy and entertained. They even homeschooled their kids; Bård felt like a derelict parent in comparison.

Bård and Vegard sat next to each other on one of Jens's cozy overstuffed sofas with their wives on either side, while Sif sat on the loveseat reserved for the master and mistress of the house. The three oldest girls were gathered together on a third sofa, with Nora and Honey on either side of Sofie, looking intently at her smartphone and sipping mugs of chocolate. A cool breeze wafted in through the open French doors, and the sky outside was clear and blue. Bård luxuriated in the peace of the moment, with Maria leaning against his side as they watched Sif’s pet rabbits hopping around the garden in the evening sun. 

Bård loved Sif's garden and had been pleased she'd asked him for gardening advice during his visit. He hadn't been able to enjoy his own garden in the last year, and it had been pure gold to kneel with her this morning, pulling weeds, not talking much. Just being.

He watched Sif's boy Jonas helping his father build a fire in the iron fireplace and felt a tinge of jealousy; he looked forward to doing the same with his own only son when he got older. He smiled when he caught Jonas glancing furtively at Nora when he thought she wasn’t looking. Bård didn't particularly object to Jonas's crush on Nora; Bård had already decided on Maria at Jonas's age. But seeing the boy's blatant heartache made Bård feel old. He was only thirty-three. What if he lived to be ninety-nine? He was only a third of the way through. Sixty-six years didn't feel reassuring. It felt like a prison sentence.

He glanced at his brother, sitting beside him. Vegard was always in arm's reach these days. It was a comfort to know he was nearby when the nightmares came, or when they were in danger. They were stronger together. But Bård yearned to feel that confidence and security on his own again. Of course they didn't talk about it. It was just something to endure.

Jens dusted off his hands and took a glass of wine proffered by his wife. Despite his size he had a youthful face and he was _relentlessly_ cheerful. Bård smiled thinking of how suspicious Vegard had been of Big Jens the first time they'd met; he'd been convinced Jens’s happy temperament was all an act. Time had proven Vegard wrong, much to Bård's amusement. Jens was truly in love with Sif, and Vegard had had to finally, grudgingly, accept him.

Now Jens sat down next to Sif and put an arm around her petite shoulders. He winked at Vegard and said, “Well, old man?”

Vegard nodded and raised his glass of wine. He said, “We don’t speak of it often, Sif, but I will never forget that I owe you my life.”

Bård elbowed his brother but added, “And mine.”

Nora piped up, “And especially mine.” She blinked at the surprised glances of the adults and asked, “Right? If it weren’t for Auntie Sif, Pappa would never have made me with Mamma.”

Her older sister Sofie groaned, “Nora, you're not supposed to talk about that."

Nora shrugged and looked at her father for advice. He’d told her only the previous night that their "Auntie" Sif had saved his and Vegard’s lives fifteen years before. He hadn’t given much in the way of detail. It didn’t matter. When Bård told Sofie about it three years ago, she'd immediately told Nora all about their father’s adventure in the USA. But Sofie’s version of the story had been full of villains and witches and magical talking beasts. Nora hadn’t really believed her older sister at the time.

On the other hand, both girls strongly suspected that Auntie Sif was a witch. Last year, when the monster wolves had attacked Norway, they’d cowered in Sif's farmhouse’s cellar with their mothers and the smaller children while Sif, Jens and Jonas went out to fight the beasts scrabbling against the windows and doors. And when they’d finally all ventured back into the daylight, they'd found Jens dragging the carcasses of monstrous black wolves into a smoldering pile. They hadn’t heard any shotgun blasts. Jonas wouldn’t say how they'd been killed. Sif was definitely a witch. But probably a good witch.

But now Sif smiled and said, “I’m glad I helped make sure you’d be here with us, Nora. We all are. Jonas is especially glad you’re here.”

Jonas, now seated on the far end of the sofa, turned bright red, provoking giggles from the girls.

Vegard smiled and said simply, _“Gratulerer med dagen, Sif.”_

Sif smiled shyly and then looked up at Jens, who bent to kiss her as the others lifted their glasses in her honor. The couple had always been unusually demonstrative, at least by Norwegian standards. The brothers thought Sif and Jens were probably a bad influence; Bård had forgotten himself and passionately kissed his wife at an office party last winter. His co-workers were still teasing him about it.

Sofie sipped her mug of cocoa and said, “Aren’t you going to give her the present, Pappa?”

Sif tutted. “I specifically told you not to bring me anything. Your families are gifts enough for me.”

Maria set down her wine glass and turned to pull a shoebox-sized package wrapped in flowered tissue paper out of a tote bag on the floor. She handed it to Bård saying, “He’s been working on this forever.”

Bård shook his head as he passed the box to Sif. “All in vain. It isn’t very good.”

Sif took the package and carefully unwrapped it. She gasped, “Oh Bård, it’s beautiful.”

The gift was a hinged aspen box, with an intricate pattern in the old Viking Jellige style burned into the wood. She ran her finger over the flowing lines and complex knots and said, “Oh, I see. They’re rabbits! They’re beautiful!” She peered more closely and asked, "Are they mating?"

"Possibly."

She peeked into the box and shrieked, “Bård!” She showed Jens and he chuckled.

Vegard elbowed Bård. “What’s inside?”

“Something she desperately needs.”

Sif stood and showed the contents to Vegard and Helene. The box was packed full with condoms.

Nora piped up, "Let me see!"

Sif looked at Maria and asked, "Would that be okay?"

Bård rolled his eyes. "She knows about sex, Sif. They teach it in _normal people_ primary school."

Sofie strained to look and asked, "Is it a rubber penis?" The other children found this idea hilarious.

Sif rolled her eyes and kissed Bård on the cheek. She said softly, "She is her father's daughter."

Bård nodded proudly. "True. And you, Sif, do not have to populate the world on your own.”

Sif shrugged. “I can’t help it. I love babies. And Jens is so sexy.”

"That's a matter of opinion."

Vegard examined the complicated pattern burned into the wood. “ _Det er fantastisk,_ Bård. Did you do this by hand?”

_“Ja.”_

“When did you learn to do this?”

Bård shrugged. “A while ago. It helps me think.”

Vegard raised a brow. He was proud of his younger brother’s many talents. “Can you show me how you do that sometime?”

“ _Nope!_  You’re too clumsy to manage it.”

Vegard smiled. “Ah well.”

“What did you make for her?”

“How do you know I made something?”

Bård rolled his eyes.

Vegard held out his hand and Helene passed him a little gift bag. She winked at Sif, saying, “He also worked on his gift forever.”

Vegard’s gift was an apron, like the ones Sif always wore. But this one was bright blue and decorated with orange and yellow butterflies and flowers. When Sif pulled it out Bård couldn’t hide his surprise. “I know that pattern, I think.”

Vegard nodded, watching Sif anxiously as she put it on and ran her hand over the colorful threads. He’d drawn three versions of the apron before he had a pattern he thought was done properly. He explained, “It’s just like the one Mothra wore in her human form. In her cottage.”

Bård leaned forward to inspect the embroidery. “That’s right. I’d forgotten you showed it to me.”

Vegard frowned at his brother, hurt that Bård could forget something that Vegard thought so important. But he shook his head and turned back to Sif. “Do you like it?”

Sif gave him a heartfelt hug and then hugged Helene as well. “Yes, it’s beautiful. You made this yourself?”

Vegard shrugged. “The needlework helps me think. I’m still learning.”

Helene said, “I told him he’d better get good at it. I want to make the kids bunads for next year. If I do all the embroidery myself they'll have outgrown them before they're finished.”

Sif laughed. “I'm flattered you spent your free time on me like this! Thank you, these gifts are very special."

Vegard shifted uncomfortably. Sif's idea of free time was very different from his own. Sif had never shaken her American work ethic, made more intense by her strict upbringing. Part of her academic success in Oslo had been due to her insistence on keeping busy seven days a week, from waking to sleep. It gave her an advantage over other students, but the brothers worried that she might burn out or become ill from pushing herself. She insisted that relaxing was a waste of useful time. Vegard thought she probably even prayed intensely, whomever it was she prayed to these days.

Regardless, she’d influenced the brothers to such an extent that their friends and colleagues often commented on their very un-Norwegian, very busy work schedules. But Vegard knew they’d never match Sif’s tireless dedication. In comparison they were, as Sif would say, _lazy bums._

Sif sat back down next to Jens and he cleared his throat. “Well, I can’t say I spent forever on my gift. But I did my best.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a little cloth bag. It contained a silver necklace, with a round pendant the size of a 20 kroner coin worked with the pattern of a rabbit intertwined with a wolf, their eyes little sparkling rubies. As he placed it around her throat Sif said thickly, “I don’t deserve to have so many wonderful people in my life, much less these lavish gifts.”

Vegard swallowed hard. Despite her years in Oslo, he knew Sif had no close friends. Certainly no one outside their little group knew of her true, horrific background. Most people knew her as an orphaned Norwegian-American brought to the country to live with her distant relatives. She hadn’t even told Jens the truth of her origins until after Honey was born. For Sif, her only true friends and family were all in the house with her right now.

Bård said, “Well, this leaves only one tradition to fulfill.”

Vegard smiled, excited about their last gift. They'd practiced it together over the preceding week in secret. He said, “This year we thought we’d make the performance a little more fancy.”

Bård took Vegard’s hand in his so they could sing _Gjendines Bådnlåt*_ , the song they’d sung to Sif when they’d first met her. Of course she was well familiar with the lullaby once she'd lived in Norway. But the song had special significance for them, and so they sang it to her every year for her birthday, and it always made her cry. This year they were going to add a light show using a spell they would weave with their voices, a talent they’d learned in Tokyo. They began singing the lullaby, soft and slow:

_Barnet legges i vuggen ned, stundom gråter og stundom ler_  
_Barnet legges i vuggen ned, stundom gråter og stundom ler_

  
As they sang they drew a curtain of sparkling mist around their audience, joining the smell of rain with the fragrance of Sif’s flower garden. The children oohed and ahhed.

_Sove nå, sove nå, i jesu navn, Jesus bevare barnet_  
_Sove nå, sove nå, i jesu navn, Jesus bevare barnet_

They held out their free hands, palm up, and flickering golden lights danced upwards to form a canopy over their heads, within the mist. As they repeated the phrase, the canopy dissolved into the shape of tree branches, the trunks of the trees mingling with the mist around the little group.

_Mamma tar meg på sitt fang, danser med meg att og fram_  
_Mamma tar meg på sitt fang, danser med meg att og fram_

Now blue lights danced away from their palms, flickering and dancing like butterflies or fairies.

_Danse så, med de små, danse så, så skal barnet danser_  
_Danse så, med de små, danse så, så skal barnet danser_

They finished their song, and everyone held their breath, entranced by the display. After a long moment the lights and mist gently dissipated into glittering motes, falling to the floor and melting away.

As usual, Sif was crying happy tears. And as usual, Bård let go of Vegard’s hand first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Translation:  
> The child is put in the cradle, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing  
> Sleep now, sleep now in Jesus's name, Jesus watch over the child  
> Mama puts me in her lap, dances with me to and fro  
> Dance so, dance with the little ones, dance and so will the child dance
> 
> (I quite like Trio Mediæval's rendition of this song, available on iTunes)


	3. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares.

[](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/YStW4_Ch3Nightmares_zpsttidi0zj.jpg.html)

As Bård climbed into bed in one of Sif’s _koselig_ little guestrooms, Maria asked, “Are you happy to be here? I know you wanted to go down to the beach.”

“Of course I’m happy. The beach would be full of people who would want to photograph and/or assassinate us.”

Maria frowned. “We’re safe here, though, aren’t we?”

Bård put out his arm and drew his petite wife against his side. “We’re safe here. No one knows we’re here. And I really need some privacy. That’s what we all need.”

"The show you put on for Sif was amazing. Beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Have you talked to him? About what you can do on your own?"

" _Nei._ I haven't found the right time."

"He won't be upset. I'm sure he won't."

"I'm not so sure. There will almost certainly be a lecture."

"He misses you. I can tell."

Bård shook his head. "He can't possibly miss me. We see each other constantly. He's like a hovering wife."

"You know what I mean."

Bård let out a long sigh. "I do." He'd pulled away from his brother after they'd returned to Norway last year. He'd tried to be professional, to be available for their projects. They'd worked on the book about their experience in Japan together, and had gone on a mini-book tour to promote the thing to raise money for UNICEF. But he'd had trouble helping to write sketches or segments for their show. He told everyone it was because after Tokyo doing silly comedy seemed less important, but the truth was that he was frightened that "Bob", the entity that had possessed him, would return and make him do things too terrible to contemplate. The thought plagued him constantly. It was difficult to concentrate on anything else. Because of Bob he'd almost killed his brother, and he'd evidently murdered countless innocents in Tokyo. He was glad he couldn't remember most of that. He was terrified he eventually might.

And after he'd returned home he'd been horrified to discover that he could do magic without needing Vegard's help. He'd somehow retained the ability to do some of the offensive spells they'd created together during their battle with the Midgard Serpent over the Pacific Ocean. He thought that surely it meant Bob still had some hold over him. Because of that possibility, it had taken forever for Bård to relax with Maria and his children; he lived in constant fear that he'd wake up one morning to find he'd slaughtered his family. The nightmares he shared with his brother weren't the only things keeping him awake at night. 

But long before Maria had been his wife she'd been his best friend, and she slowly convinced him that he posed no danger to her or their children. Lately she'd been urging him to reconcile with his brother and tell him the truth. But Bård was still heavy with guilt for what he'd put Vegard through. He couldn't imagine subjecting Vegard to the fear that Bob might return and finish what he'd started. He couldn't bear the thought of his friends and family being afraid of him.

Maria elbowed him. "Hold on. If Vegard is a hovering wife, then what does that make me?"

Bård snorted. "You, Maria, are the love of my life. Besides he doesn't smell nearly as nice as you do." He pressed his nose into her hair. "You smell very good."

_"Takk."_

Bård grimaced. "He smells like... sweat and eczema cream." 

"I think he smells fine."

"You haven't had your face pressed against his armpits or his crotch like I have." 

"Thankfully." 

Bård smiled. "Besides, you've never hovered the way he does."

"I hover a little. I worry for you, Bård."

"I'm sorry for that."

She pulled back slightly and studied his face. “Don't be. But I can tell you're tense. Do you need anything to help you sleep?”

_“Nei._ I won’t have trouble.” 

She brushed his hair away from his face. “Liar."

Bård shrugged and drew her close. "I don't want to worry you."

"I know. Isn't there anything I can do to help you relax?”

Bård smiled and kissed her. “Actually, I can think of a few things.”

 

* * *

 

Bård startled awake to the sound of a wailing siren. Was the house on fire? He felt around frantically in the dark, unable to find the light. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, shouting for Maria. No answer. Where had everyone gone? He stood with both hands clamped over his ears, feeling along the wall with his elbow. Why would anyone make a fire alarm so unnecessarily deafening? He saw a flashing red light high on the wall above him and strained upwards to poke at the thing until the alarm stopped.

"Bård?" Bård swore as the lights in the room came on, blindingly white. He blinked tears away, squinting to see who had called him. 

It was Sif. "Bård? What are you doing?"

He swiped away the tears but could still barely see. "The alarm sounded and I turned it off."

"Why would you do that?"

"It was so loud." Maybe he was having a migraine. The light was agonizing. "It's so bright in here." 

"Don't you want us to see you?"

"What do you mean?" He squinted at Sif. 

She was holding her newborn baby daughter. She said, "It doesn't matter. We know what you really are. We all know."

Bård raised his hands to protest and realized he was gripping a short sword in each hand. "What is this? I don't want these."

"You can't change your fate. Look around you and finish what you started." Without warning, Sif threw herself upon the blades, impaling herself and her child. 

Bård cried out in horror and revulsion as her blood spurted onto his hands. He backed away and into something solid. He whirled to find he'd bumped against Vegard's feet. He looked up. Vegard's corpse hung limply from a rough wooden cross, his neck slashed, his chest run through with one of Bård's swords. Vegard's milky eyes stared sightlessly down and a snake emerged from his mouth, hissing and spitting. Accusing. The blood from Vegard's wounds streamed onto Bård's face and he backed away in panic, tripping over the corpse of Vegard's wife and landing hard on the ground. Helene must have died defending her children; their corpses lay beneath her, blood spreading below them. And just beyond them, Maria.

Bård pushed himself to his feet and rushed to Maria's side. She was covered with spattered blood and rocked his whimpering son in her arms. Their daughters cowered behind her. They were terrified.

Maria begged tearfully, "Why? Why did you kill them all?"

"This wasn't me. It isn't me!"

She shrieked, "Murderer!"

Bård screamed with anguish as his arms were pulled upward, raising his blade. "Run! I can't stop it!" He thrust it down with all of his might, over and over into the bodies of the people he loved.

_"Bård? Bård! Wake up."_

Bård's eyes snapped open. Maria's worried face hovered close above him, dimly lit by the summer night's light filtering in through Sif's guest room curtains.

"Maria." He reached up to draw her down, choking with relief. _"Fy faen._ Another nightmare. I was killing everyone again."

She whispered, "Maybe you should go back to the doctor. The medicine helped you sleep."

He squeezed her tighter. "Those pills made me sick. I'm glad you're not hurt."

"You wouldn't hurt me."

After a long minute Bård let out a shaky breath and he released her. He gripped her hand in both of his and said, "I can't bear the thought of hurting you or..." His throat constricted. He couldn't say his children's names out loud. It would be a crime for someone like him to say their names out loud. Not right after that dream.

Maria hugged him back. "I know. I know. It's okay."

"I can't bear that you would fear me."

"You won't and we don't."

He let go of her hand and swung his legs off of the bed. He sat up and buried his face in his hands. " _Faen,_ it was so real."

Maria sat up and rubbed his back. "Maybe Vegard will be having a bad dream as well."

_"Ja._ I'll go find him."

"Talk to him, _kjære."_

"Maybe." Bård swiped his phone off the side table and stumbled out into the hall. There was no way he would talk to Vegard about any of this. Vegard already knew better than anyone that his younger brother was a monster.

 

* * *

 

Vegard emerged from another nightmare, gasping for breath. In the dream he'd been a teenager again, running through a subway or sewer, holding his two younger brothers' hands. They were jerked away from him and he turned to see them torn apart by a dark figure as the subway flooded with rushing water. It was the Tokyo demon, wearing Bård's face, hissing and spitting hot poison.

But it was okay now. Vegard had woken up. It was only another bad dream. It didn't mean anything. He let out a slow breath as he groped for his phone. Any nightmare that included Bård usually meant Bård was having a nightmare as well, and they always texted each other when it happened. He felt around the surface of the nightstand and realized he wasn't at home. 

Helene asked sleepily, "Nightmare?"

_"Ja._ Go back to sleep. I think I dropped my phone."

"Turn on the light, I don't mind."

He reached for the light and yelped as his wife shoved him hard enough to throw him onto the floor. He blinked in confusion as she reared up over him, her mouth stretching grotesquely wide and plunging down to cover his face, her fangs skewering his face and neck, her suddenly immense weight pinning him to the floor.

Vegard woke again, crying out her name, and fumbled for the light switch. Helene squinted groggily up at him. "Nightmare?"

_"Ja._ A bad one." He pushed his hands through his sweat-dampened hair. He squinted at the bedside clock and grabbed his phone. One text from Bård, only a minute old: _"awake come into the hall"_

Vegard sighed. "The baby will sleep a few more hours. Go back to sleep."

"You sure?"

"I'm going to go find Bård."

"Are you all right?"

"I'll be okay. Go back to sleep."

"Okay."

He switched off the bedside light and moved quietly past the baby's crib and out. 

Bård was standing in the hall, looking exhausted. "Mine was very bad. You?"

Vegard nodded. "Very bad."


	4. Sisterly Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: July 9, 2016 As is always the case, I find something perfect for a chapter immediately after posting it. Today I discovered the Norwegian proverb: "Smi mens jernet er varmt." which means "Forge while the iron is hot." (For my fellow Norwegian students, å smi is the verb to forge). I expect Bård would use that phrase rather than the English "Get it while it's hot." I love this language! <3

When the brothers tiptoed down the stairs, they were surprised to find their hostess nursing her baby girl Margit on one of the sofas. Sif looked up as they entered and smiled. Her hair was unbraided and lay loose around her shoulders like a golden mantle.

 _"Storebrødre._ Why are you awake?"

The brothers sat down on either side of her. Vegard yawned and rested his head on her petite shoulder. "Nightmares."

"You’re still waking up every night?"

"Not every night."

Bård rested his head on Sif's other shoulder. She was so tiny it wasn't exactly comfortable. But it felt natural. He sighed, "They wouldn't bother me, but Vegard is too often in them. I can only take so much of him in a 24 hour period."

Sif smiled. "That doesn't sound bad to me."

Vegard grunted. "It's bad, trust me."

"Do you have the same dream, together I mean?"

Vegard glanced at his brother. "Was Bjarte in yours tonight?"

Bård sighed. " _Nei._ So, not the same dream. But if I have a really bad one, he always does too. And the bad ones are always incredibly vivid. Memorable. In Technicolor."

Vegard rubbed his eyes, yawning again. "Worse than that. In 3D and IMAX"

_"Ja da."_

Sif looked down at her daughter and murmured, "I've had nightmares as well. But not about the monsters; we held them off here at the farm easily enough. Especially Jonas and Jens; they were amazing. And Honey was so brave."

Vegard drew back and sighed, “I know.” He still felt heavy guilt for having been in Tokyo while Europe was being overrun with mythological monsters. Norway had been besieged by giant dogs and wolves, and many innocent people had died. He said, "I've thanked you for letting my family take refuge here during the attacks?"

"Many, many times. And of course we welcomed them. They're my family too. Don't be silly."

Bård said, "Vegard's ashamed that you had to protect Helene and Maria and the kids; he thinks we should have been here."

Vegard grunted, _"Shuddup,_ Bård."

"You _shuddup._ "

"Change the subject."

Bård shrugged and gently touched Margit's little head. "What a sweet baby girl you have, Sif."

Sif glanced at Bård with amusement. For such a stubborn man, he certainly let Vegard boss him around. She said, "Thank you. And the bad dreams I've been having are about my mother. I know why. It's Elder Bill. He has a hearing in Illinois in a few weeks and they might release him. I got a letter from the USA." She disengaged her daughter and started patting her back.

Vegard said gently, " _Lillesøster_ , he can't find you here. He doesn’t even know you are still alive."

"I know. Still, it’s brought up bad memories. Bad memories cause nightmares. But dreams are only dreams. I think you two need to remember that your ordeal with the demon is over and that you won. The dreams won't stop until you accept that."

Bård sucked in a breath. Elder Bill had tortured him horribly in the States fifteen years ago. He hadn't ever really gotten over the incident. But he'd felt better knowing Elder Bill was locked up in a prison far away. But if they released him... Suddenly he felt like a frightened teenager again. The thought of his kids falling into Elder Bill's clutches made him sick. Of course that was irrational. Elder Bill couldn't get them here; that would be ridiculous. Still... Bård fought down the sudden urge to check to make sure the children were safe. He met eyes with Sif.

She met Bård's gaze and said evenly, "If the Church wanted to come after you, they've had fifteen years to try. They won't."

Sif's daughter burped. Vegard smiled at the baby and said, "I don't understand. I thought Billy got the death penalty. That he was still appealing the sentence."

Sif wiped Margit's mouth with a washcloth and said, "Illinois got rid of the death penalty a few years ago. All the people on death row had their sentences commuted. The FBI said he's got cancer and they might release him because he's sick."

Bård asked, "What will happen if he gets released?"

Sif shrugged. "I don't know. The Church put all the blame on him; I doubt they'd welcome him back to the fold."

Vegard said, "Bård's afraid Bill will hunt him down."

Bård grunted, " _Shuddup,_ Vegard."

Sif shook her head. "Elder Bill wouldn't come after you. We were just children back then, he knows that. If anything he might seek out the Church Elders that betrayed him."

Vegard turned his attention back to Bård. They had talked very little about the kidnapping as the years had passed. They didn't need to talk about it. It was in the past. The memories sometimes came up when they visited Sif, but even then they rarely spoke of it; Sif was so vehement about letting go of her past it hadn't come up in conversation in years. Even so, it only came up on her birthdays when they sang to her. Maybe that was a tradition they should let go.

Sif kissed her daughter's head and said softly, "Elder Bill won't come for you either, Vegard. I knew him a long time before you two rescued me from that miserable hell. He knows you were innocent of his daughter's murder. It wouldn't be in his nature to pursue you."

Vegard swallowed hard. Sif didn't usually talk to him like this. So... intimately. Despite her apparent fifteen-year-long infatuation with him, Vegard knew she was closest with Bård. They texted or called each other several times a week. He never knew what they talked about and he never asked.

Bård said, "You rescued us, as I remember it. And now we can protect ourselves. Since Tokyo we've been attacked four times. Every time when it's happened Mothra's marks have protected us. Vegard's mark has shielded us, and mine has incapacitated them."

The baby started fussing and Sif bounced her gently. "It isn't just your mark, Bård. You defend yourself because you have power. You were chosen by Satan’s messenger in Illinois, long ago, as I was."

Bård scowled at her. "Oh, _shuddup_ about that."

"Don't tell me to _shuddup."_

"That was just a hallucination. We were drugged.”

Sif continued as if she hadn’t heard him. "You _are_ special. And Vegard is special too. The spirit wanted to take him as well."

Vegard made a face. "I'm not special."

" _Yes,_ you are." Sif handed the fussy baby to Vegard. The baby abruptly stopped crying and studied him with interest. "See that? Margit thinks you're special."

Vegard held the baby close and she yawned and closed her eyes. He whispered, "Margit is a baby and doesn't know better."

Sif said, "We three were chosen by Satan, and so are all of my children. It's something we have to accept and deal with."

Vegard met eyes with Bård. He shrugged. Sif had very odd ideas about Satan and the world. She had repudiated the Satan-worshipping cult in America, but she'd never lost her belief that she and the brothers had been chosen for some higher purpose. The Ylvisåker brothers' role in the defeat of the Midgard Serpent in Japan the previous year only strengthened her faith in them. At least she knew better than to mention any of this Satan nonsense in front of their spouses; she hadn't said a word about it as the couples had chatted in the kitchen after the older kids were put to bed.

Vegard patted Margit's back. "Change the subject."

Bård yawned and said, "Your hair looks different, Sif. Golden. What did you do?"

"Lemon juice and almond oil. Jens says it makes me look like the real Sif. The goddess."

Bård sighed. "There's no such thing as the real Sif."

"So say you. But you should do it too, Bård, it doesn't take long to lighten it. You shouldn't have cut off your hair for charity. It's growing back in too dark. It makes you look sad."

Vegard said sleepily, "Bård doesn't spend enough time in the sun anymore."

Bård shrugged and put his head back on Sif's shoulder. "Every time I try to relax outside some psychopath tries to murder me."

"That's not true. What about your garden?"

"The garden is going to hell. Like everything else in our lives."

Vegard grunted in agreement. He added, "Ever since the Titan attacks life hasn't been the same."

Sif said softly, "Life hasn't been the same for anyone, _storebror_."

Vegard nodded. "I know. It was terrible for everyone. And I realize what happened to us in Tokyo was unusual, but we aren't really special. There were a lot of people that stepped up to the challenge at the time. But we've gotten singled out by some of the crazier survivors."

Sif said, "But you two _are_ special."

_"Nei."_

"You're special, Vegard. Very special."

Bård smirked. "Here it comes."

Sif turned to look earnestly at Vegard, blinking her ice blue eyes slowly, searching his face. She asked, "Won't you reconsider? Please let me have a child with you. I would love a little baby girl or boy with dark eyes like yours.”

Bård added almost absently, “Dark eyes like a little bunny rabbit, Vegard.”

Sif nodded. “And I'm almost thirty now. Time is running out."

Bård added, "Get it while it's hot, Vegard."

Vegard narrowed his eyes at his brother but said, "I still can't tell if you're teasing me, Sif. Bård puts you up to this, doesn't he?"

Bård leaned forward and he and Sif both blinked their big blue eyes innocently at Vegard.

Vegard persisted, "You don't really mean any of that, right Sif?"

Bård said sweetly, "Don't you know that lies are too difficult for her to remember, _storebror_?"

Vegard sighed. "Sif. _Ruby_. You'll always be my little sister in my heart. It would be... incestuous. Besides, I would want to be in the child's life, and none of it would be fair to Jens or Helene. My own children barely get to see me as it is."

"You wouldn't have to be in its life, and we wouldn't even have to have sexual intercourse. Bård said you wouldn't be good in bed anyway; you'd just be thinking about airplanes the whole time."

Vegard frowned at his brother. "Bård?"

"Vegard?"

Sif added, "You could do it artificially. In a little dish.”

Vegard made a face. _“Æsj!”_

“Jens said it would be okay."

"Jens is an extremely patient man."

"That's why I love him. Also he is amazing _in the sack_."

Bård nodded, "Jens doesn't care about airplanes at all."

Sif shrugged. "It's true."

Vegard felt his patience slipping. "Then keep having amazing sex and babies with Jens and stop asking me."

"But you're Blessed. I know it. I can feel it. The baby would be exceptional. It would have power. For good."

"That's absurd. Why don't you pester Bård about this instead of me? He’s the one with the real power; he makes lightning."

Bård grunted, _"Oi,_ Vegard. Don't give her ideas."

Vegard carefully gave Margit back to her mother and said, "Besides, if we had a child with magical powers then it would only be another target. Think about the child's safety. I'd happily give up Mothra's mark if people would stop attacking us."

Sif sobered. "They don't attack you because you have power. They attack you because they are misguided."

"I wouldn't want to chance a child being a target like that."

"A child with your powers would be safe from harm, just as you are."

" _Helvete,_ Sif."

They all sank into silence.

Finally Sif sighed and held her daughter close. She began singing softly*:

_Kanske vil der gå både Vinter og Vår, både Vinter og Vår_  
_og næste Sommer med, og det hele År, og det hele År._  
_men engang vil du komme, det véd jeg visst, det véd jeg visst._  
_og jeg skal nok vente, for det lovte jeg sidst. Det lovte jeg sidst._

Vegard smiled despite himself as Sif hummed the vocalise from the Solveig's Song*. He expected Helene was right; he would be a little sad the day Sif stopped begging him for a child. He had to admit it stroked his ego that she was so fixated on his genetics. Especially in a country where being dark was unusual. He'd never say yes, but he didn't really mind the question, or Bård's teasing about it. So he joined in:

_Gud styrke dig, hvor du i Verden går, i Verden går_  
_Gud glæde dig, hvis du for hans Fodskammel står, for hans Fodskammel står_  
_Her skal jeg vente til du kommer igen, du kommer igen_  
_og venter du histoppe, vi træffes der, min Ven. Vi træffes der, min Ven._

When they'd finished singing Margit was asleep; Vegard gently kissed the baby's head. She smelled sweet. Babies smelled fantastic. Surely it wasn't just the shampoo. Besides, it was likely Sif made her own or bought some weird organic stuff for shampoo. But all babies smelled wonderful. Was it something to do with the mother's milk? Maybe there was some pheromone that babies released so adults would want to pick them up. He'd have to Google it tomorrow when he was more awake.

He glanced at Sif and found her studying him with amusement. She asked, "Lost in thought again?"

Bård grunted, "Vegard loves the sound of his own boring internal monologues."

Sif asked, "What were you thinking about this time? Something clever?"

Vegard smiled. "Nothing clever. I was just thinking that your baby smells nice."

_"Takk."_

He looked over Sif at Bård, expecting him to tease him more about always being distracted. But Bård was frowning and staring into space. "Bård?"

Bård let out a long breath and muttered, "Sif, can Maria and the kids stay here with all of you while I’m gone? It’s safe here. No one knows about this place.”

Sif nodded. “Of course. But where are you going?”

“I’m going to go to America. I have to be there if they release Elder Bill."

Vegard choked, _"Hæ?!"_ He glanced down guiltily at the baby but she hadn't woken. He repeated, whispering, _"Hæ?!"_

"I have to be there." Bård rubbed his palms on his knees. "He screwed me up so badly back then. I have to face him and get past it."

Sif tutted. “Bård. I've told you hundreds of times. Elder Bill never liked boys that way. He was just trying to scare you because he thought you killed his daughter. Think of how you would feel; you'd be crazy. He wasn't ever going to sodomize you or anything like that. You just have to get over all of that.”

Bård drew back and studied her face. “Have you gotten over what Ranger did to you? And Bill probably killed your mother."

Vegard muttered, " _Oi oi oi oi,_ Bård. Stop."

Bård persisted. "You wanted revenge before.”

Sif raised a brow at him and said evenly, “I was a child. I know now that better than any revenge is the peace, happiness and love I’ve found here with my husband and children. Those are things neither of those bastards will ever have." She added in English, _"Whatsoever a man soweth, so that shall he also reap."_

Bård laughed mirthlessly. “Are _you_ seriously quoting the Bible?”

Vegard leaned in front of Sif and hissed, "Bård. You’re being an ass.”

“ _Faen,_ Vegard. I have to do this. I’m going.”

“You don't have to go and you aren't going to go. And we are taking our vacation here. Together. With each other and Sif and the kids. We all need this.”

Bård leaned in as well and whispered angrily, "You mean _you_ need this. You've been unreasonable about us spending time together. You never let me have a _moment_ of solitude. I can't have even one minute without you telling me what to do, where to go and how to think."

"This isn't about me. This is about keeping ourselves and our families safe."

“But I didn’t know about Billy. I’ll go. I can be there and back in three days.”

“We agreed we’d dedicate the summer with our families here at the farm. Help Sif and Jens out with the new baby. Clear our heads.”

Sif murmured, "I do not need any help."

Bård persisted, “I have to go. It isn’t a choice.”

“You aren’t thinking this through. We're already supposed to meet up with Calle for that day of filming in Germany in three weeks. And then we have Los Angeles at the end of August."

"The L.A. team wanted us to shoot in Chicago before; we could move that up and just film in Chicago instead of Los Angeles. And we can do Calle's thing there as well; it will be funnier in the USA anyway. We can do both at once. We'll be there and back in less than a week and have a whole month to stay with the families."

“I doubt Calle will want to fly all the way to the USA.”

“I can talk him into it.”

"We specifically told the L.A. people we wouldn’t go back to Chicago."

"We'll say we changed our minds. And we can change the Hamburg segment to fit the USA. We'd save the time travelling back and forth to Germany."

"It's not a time saver."

 _"Jo_ , it is."

Vegard frowned. “Listen to your older brother. We aren’t going to America.”

Bård barked a wry laugh and said in English, _“You aren’t the boss of me.”_

Sif said suddenly, "You two are like children.”

The brothers drew back, muttering apologies.

She said, “Listen to me. I'm going to put Margit down. I'll be right back to make something to calm both of you down and help you sleep. Behave yourselves." She stood carefully and left the great room with her daughter.

The brothers watched her leave, cowed by her tone. They sat silently for a few moments, regretting their argument.

Bård finally remarked, “She wants to make us something to sleep. Do you think she'll drug us? With some animal tranquilizer?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"She's scary as hell. And I don’t think she ever sleeps.”

"She said she dreams."

"I haven't actually witnessed her sleeping in a long time."

Vegard sighed. "Evidently she talked Helene into giving permission for me to give her a baby.”

Bård made a face. "You don’t deserve Helene.”

“True. And I’m getting old and grey and wrinkled. Eventually she’ll realize her mistake and leave me for a younger man.”

Bård looked back toward the hall where Sif had exited. “Sif is the most stubborn woman… _person_ … I’ve ever met."

Vegard snorted. "I'll always say no to her, no matter how much you egg her on. And I'm saying no to you as well. We aren't going to Chicago."

"I am. If you won't go I'll simply go myself."

"I can’t let you go off on your own. We agreed not to split up. We’re stronger together. I'm serious about this."

"So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnote: "Solveigs Sang" was written by Edvard Grieg in 1875 as music to accompany the Ibsen play Peer Gynt. I can't figure out in which exact dialect were the original lyrics, but most versions available say they were an older Danish-Norwegian dialect which was in use in 1875 by Norwegians even though they were technically part of Sweden at the time. Various versions of the lyrics are all over the internet, including English versions which aren't nearly as nice. I highly recommend the norsk-esque version sung by Marita Solberg, easily found on YouTube. The song is performed near the end of the play when a remorseful Peer Gynt returns as an old man to Solveig, who had been loyally waiting for him for a lifetime even though he was kind of a dick to her. As best as I can tell, the straight English translation of the original song is approximately as follows:
> 
> Kanske vil der gå både Vinter og Vår, både Vinter og Vår  
> og næste Sommer med, og det hele År, og det hele År.  
> men engang vil du komme, det véd jeg visst, det véd jeg visst.  
> og jeg skal nok vente, for det lovte jeg sidst. Det lovte jeg sidst.
> 
> Gud styrke dig, hvor du i Verden går, i Verden går  
> Gud glæde dig, hvis du for hans Fodskammel står, for hans Fodskammel står  
> Her skal jeg vente til du kommer igen, du kommer igen  
> og venter du histoppe, vi træffes der, min Ven. Vi træffes der, min Ven.
> 
> Maybe both winter and spring will pass, both winter and spring  
> And next summer and the whole year, and the whole year  
> But you will come eventually, that I know for certain, that I know for certain  
> Here I'll wait, because I promised that last. I promised that last.
> 
> May God make you strong wherever you go in the world, where you go in the world  
> May God bring you joy if you stand before his footstool  
> Here I will wait until you come again, you come again  
> And if you wait up [in heaven], we will meet there, my friend. We will meet there my friend


	5. Back in the Land of Lincoln

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers have a court date

Two weeks later, Bård, Vegard and Calle were emptying their pockets onto a conveyor belt at a courthouse in Springfield Illinois.

"Next!" A heavyset black woman in a security uniform with the name _Russell_ stitched into her uniform waved at Bård. "C'mon through, sir."

Bård walked cautiously through the metal detector, jumping and backing up hastily when it beeped.

The security officer yawned and said, "Belt."

Bård sheepishly took off the black belt he'd worn with the black suit and made it through his second time. He slipped his belt on again as Vegard and Calle passed through the checkpoint.

Calle grabbed his keys and said, "I'm going to regret coming here with you two, aren't I?"

Bård shrugged, sliding his passport back into his inner suit pocket. "Probably. It smells like old paper in here."

"Old paper and broken spirits."

"And guilt. Very cheery."

Vegard glanced up at the white decorative tin ceiling tiles four meters above them as he shrugged back into his own dark suit jacket. "Isn't everything electronic these days? Do they even have paper records anymore?"

The security officer asked, "You gentlemen all shop in the same store?"

Vegard startled. "I'm sorry?"

"The suits."

Bård offered, "Sale. Three for one." Calle had picked up all of their black _I kveld Med Ylvis_ suits from the production offices on the way to the airport to save the brothers the hassle of going back into town to shop. But Bård supposed they probably looked a bit like CIA agents here in the real world. Or the Blues Brothers. It didn't matter.

The guard gave him a friendly smile. "I do love a bargain. Now move along, gentlemen. Holdin' up the line."

Vegard apologized and they moved into the old courthouse. The entry hall's grey marble floors gave way to creaking dark hardwood floors under dark green well-worn carpet runners. As they moved through the more cramped hallways toward the courtrooms, regularly spaced smaller oak-framed windows higher up the wall allowed ample afternoon sunlight through. But Bård was right, it wasn't cheery light. The air was still and the people silently moving through the groaning hallways were wearing suits, carrying briefcases and definitely not smiling.

The parole hearing was set in a long, windowless room with linoleum floors and plain beige walls. Three middle-aged white men in suits sat behind a long oak desk meant for a dozen people on the far end. Battered wooden chairs were set up in two neat rows near the door for spectators, and there was a heavy wood table in the middle of the room, presumably for the prisoner and a lawyer. Not cheery at all.

Vegard led Bård to a seat in the left back row near the door and settled down between him and Calle. He frowned. "I thought the parole board had twelve people on it; that's what the website said."

Calle shrugged. "Maybe they only need a few for this case."

"Maybe."

They sat in silence for about ten minutes. Beside Vegard, Bård sat as still and as rigidly as stone. Vegard had to admit he was nervous as well. And tired; it was late at night back at home. They hadn't had a chance to sleep off the jet lag. Well, he hadn't. Bård slept on the plane, in the airport and on the ride over here.

Two minutes before the two o'clock hearing was meant to begin, other people filed in silently to fill the spectator seats on the other side of the door. They were mostly young adults; no one over fifty. Vegard wondered what their interest in the case could be.

Bård gasped and whispered, "Here he comes."

A door opened to their left and Elder Bill appeared with his lawyer, a severe-looking young blond woman in a suit and heels. Bård was shocked. He thought he'd be terrified to see Bill again, because in his head Bill was still strong and vigorous. The shrunken old man shuffling into the courtroom was a ghost of what Elder Bill had been. He was wearing a bright orange prisoner's uniform that looked two sizes too large on his thin frame, and although his sagging eyes widened in surprise when they met with Bård's, they didn't seem hostile. Only tired and sick.

Bård hadn't realized he was breathing heavily until Vegard put a hand on his forearm and gently squeezed. No need to panic. Everything was okay. Got it.

The hearing was over quickly. The lawyer argued that Bill had committed his crimes while under the thumb of the Satan-worshipping cult members and had successfully completed rehabilitation. Besides, Bill had been a model prisoner for the last fifteen years, and had been diagnosed with end-stage lung cancer. He wasn't expected to live more than a few months. The board determined that Bill was no longer a danger to society and would be released to a halfway house for compassionate reasons the following week. Bård was riveted to the proceedings, irrationally worried that his English wasn't as good as he thought it was, afraid he'd miss some detail.

For his part, Calle spent the time trying to figure out what was going on, his eyes darting back and forth between his friends and the sad old man sitting with his attorney. The lawyer mentioned a murder charge. Who had been murdered? The whole thing was very odd. He'd agreed to come on the trip after Bård explained that the true motivation for the trip had to do with the brothers' kidnapping fifteen years before. Calle's curiosity wouldn't allow him to pass up the opportunity to find out what had really happened back then. Plus Bård had offered to pay Calle an embarrassing sum to come with them. So he'd made the trip. But what was Bård's true connection to this criminal?

Vegard, sitting on Bård's other side, was more interested in the people sitting in the gallery with them than the legal proceedings. He'd noticed that the other spectators were all blond or ginger, and he realized some of them were surely current or previous members of the cult. He didn't recognize any of the ones sitting near them, even accounting for the time that had passed. But they were all sitting very quietly, very respectfully, and they made him nervous as hell. He glanced around the room, studying the judges and bailiff. They also looked suspiciously Scandinavian. At least the court stenographer was a black woman. She wouldn't be one of them unless the cult had developed an interest in dark people. They hadn't wanted him or his dark eyes at all back in the day. And Vegard was surprised the Madisons hadn't come to the hearing of the man who'd killed their daughters. The couple had been fairly old at the trial. Maybe they'd died of old age.

Vegard rubbed his neck; it was aching from tension. It was a bad idea to be here on so many levels. But Bård had said he needed to come. Bård didn't argue about much these days, so in the end Vegard felt he had to oblige him. When one of the judges declared the hearing was over, Vegard rubbed Bård's forearm. "Are you okay? He doesn't look like he's capable of hurting anyone anymore."

Bård turned to look at him, his face carefully neutral. He said, _"Ja._ Do you see any of them? Ranger? Lilah?"

_"Nei._ It's fine and you're safe."

Bård glanced at Calle and said a bit louder, "Of course I'm safe. I'm not a teenager any more."

"I wouldn't..." Vegard broke off as a cold shiver of foreboding flowed down his body like ice water. _Danger._

Bård froze. "What-?" His voice was drowned by the triple report of a gun and the screams of the court stenographer.

As the gun fired, Vegard rolled so his own body covered Bård's. The mirrored silvery sheen of his mark's magical barrier flickered briefly to life around both brothers and their friend, but when Vegard looked back to see what had happened, the shield had already dissipated  If someone had been shooting at them, they'd missed.

But Elder Bill lay splayed face down across the table he'd been sitting behind, the bailiff holding his right wrist firmly to the table.  Bill's limp hand was curled around a pistol.   Blood sprayed outward and oozed slowly from his head.

Vegard gripped the arms of Bård's chair and got on his feet. He remained bent over his brother.

Bård swallowed hard and whispered, "Vegard?"

Vegard met his brother's wide eyes. He squeezed Bård's shoulder and asked encouragingly, "It's okay.  You okay?"

Bård's began to answer but his voice broke.   He cleared his throat. "My mark didn't power up."

Vegard glanced at the other witnesses in the courtroom. They showed no horror, or really any reaction to the sudden death. Several of them nodded at each other and they stood and began to slowly file out towards the door. He looked back down at his brother. "No need for your mark. The danger is past."

Calle began uncurling himself from his chair and said shakily, " _What the fuck_ just happened?"

Vegard said, "I think he shot himself. Suicide. There's blood everywhere."

Bård pushed away from Vegard to look and then turned his face away, grimacing and gagging in disgust. He choked out, _"Jesus Christ._ How could that happen? Wasn't the guard watching?"

Vegard remained standing over Bård shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know."

Calle pushed himself up and leaned forward.   He ran a finger over a spot on the empty chair in front of them. "There's a bullet stuck in here. Look."

Vegard sighed. "It must have bounced off my shield."

Bård pushed Vegard aside and bent forward to squint at the misshapen slug in the wood. "Ricochet?"

"Maybe? But I heard a triple shot. An automatic pistol? Aren't those illegal?"

Bård chewed his lip. "Aren't _all_ guns legal in the USA?"

"I don't think so."

Three armed guards pushed their way through the door, their weapons drawn. The middle judge called out, "The situation is under control, officers."

The new guards holstered their weapons and walked toward the bench as the gallery emptied.

Calle whispered, "All the people are just walking out. As if nothing happened."

Bård swallowed convulsively and muttered, "No one seems to care about Vegard’s magic trick."

Vegard stilled. One of the last male spectators walking towards the door looked familiar. He was about Vegard's age. The man met eyes with Vegard and smiled at him knowingly before passing through the door. Then he was gone.

Bård asked, "Who was that? He knew us."

Vegard shook his head slowly. "He looked familiar. Wait. _Oi oi oi oi,_ that was Jeremy."

Calle asked, "Who?"

Bård sucked in a breath and finally stood, straightening his jacket nervously. "Cultist. He was a kid back then."

Vegard nodded, transported back in time. He could see Jeremy in the prison where they'd been held, laughing about their sadistic treatment by a particularly vicious kid called Ranger. He sucked in a breath. "We shouldn't have come here."

Calle suggested, "Maybe you should tell someone?"

Bård leaned in. " _Nei,_ we aren't going to say anything and we're getting out of here now." He pointed to the front of the room. The three judges and the court officer were speaking in low tones; the prosecuting attorney was comforting the weeping stenographer. The bailiff glanced at the Norwegians.

Vegard froze and whispered, " _Åja_. Let's go."

The hallway outside the courtroom was empty. The three of them had almost made it to the building's exit when the security officer that had greeted them earlier beckoned them to a nearby podium.

Calle glanced at his friends. Bård and Vegard were on absolute high alert. Bård was grinding his teeth so hard Calle could hear the squeaks. He hadn't seen them this tense since the battle in Tokyo. He cleared his throat and addressed the officer. "Yes, ma'am? Uh... I mean Officer... Russell?"

"Yes, that's me. Are any of you gentlemen a Mister Yell-viss-sacker?"

Vegard said hoarsely, "That's us. I mean me." He pointed to Calle and added, "He's just a friend. He doesn't know about -"

Officer Russell put up a hand to stop Vegard. She gave them an encouraging smile. Calle figured she was in her forties. Her black uniform's jacket and trousers weren't particularly flattering to her heavy figure, but she looked friendly enough. She said, "I was asked to give you this envelope before you left the building. I want to apologize about what happened in the courtroom. That bailiff is gonna get chewed out and put on suspension for letting that man grab his gun. We take the security of our prisoners very seriously."

Calle nodded nervously. "We know. Do you want to question us or...?"

She held up a hand. "No, sir. Of course not, this is cut and dry. But it happens once in a while. Mercy, I think, in the end, for some of the old ones. They never seem to quite integrate back into society."

Calle shifted his feet and said, "We're just a little... I mean... the shooting..."

She nodded sympathetically but said in a matter-of-fact tone, "You want to sit down somewhere or talk to someone? A counselor or something? People get real shook up when they see a shooting."

Calle glanced at his friends. They both had round frightened puppy eyes. He said, "No thank you. We were in the military back home; we've seen worse. We'll go get some coffee and be okay."

She studied the men and asked softly, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

She sighed and pulled out a card. She said, "Listen, I can't make you stay. Sometimes it takes a while for the shock to sink in. If you need help you call this number."

"Thanks." Calle studied the card. It read: _Illinois Department of Human Services_ and had a helpline number and website URL listed below. Surreal. How often did people shoot automatic weapons in courthouses here?

She continued, "And we'd appreciate if you didn't talk to the media about this. Don't want folks afraid to come witness hearings like this, you know what I'm sayin'? It's important that victims get closure." She handed the envelope to Vegard.

Vegard nodded wordlessly and passed the letter to Bård. The officer nodded back politely. "That's all, gentlemen. Call us if you need us."

The three Norwegian men walked briskly out to the enormous red SUV they'd rented; Calle had to jog to keep up. Bård got into the back seat and Vegard started up the engine before Calle finished buckling up. Vegard pulled out of the parking lot hastily, trying not to speed in his desperation to get as far and fast away as possible from the courthouse.

After they'd driven silently several miles out of Springfield, Vegard pulled to the side of the road near an empty field. He left the car idling and pushed his hands through his hair.

Calle said, "Okay, _what the fuck_?  They didn't need to question the witnesses?"

Bård said, "That was an execution. They just executed Elder Bill. Maybe tried to get us too."

"The prisoner was called Elder Bill? I thought he just shot himself. Uh... twice... and once at us okay I see what you mean."

Bård leaned forward and handed a sheet of paper to Vegard. He read it and gave it to Calle.

The note was handwritten in block letters on a blank piece of white paper. It read only: "THIS MATTER IS NOW CLOSED."

Bård said, "The officer that gave us the letter knew all about what had happened in the courtroom, even though she hadn't been there. It couldn't have been more than two minutes after Elder Bill was shot that she stopped us with this note."

Vegard swore under his breath and said, "She was black, they didn't take blacks in the Church."

"Maybe they've become less racist. Or maybe she wasn't in on it."

Vegard paused, thinking a moment, watching Bård in the rearview mirror. Bård was staring out the back window, turned away from his brother. Vegard asked, "Were we followed?"

Bård answered, "I don't think so. I've been watching. Maybe this was a bad idea after all."

Vegard muttered, _“Ser du det?”_ He turned the rental car back onto the highway and drew in a long slow breath. _"Nei._ Maybe it's what we needed to hear. That it's over and they won't come after us."

Bård laughed nervously. "I guess I don't have to worry about Bill coming after us."

_"Nei."_

"That's something to consider."

_"Ja."_

Calle sighed. "Are you going to tell me what's going on? I know it's about when you were kidnapped as kids by that cult but..."

Bård turned back to watch the road behind them, but said, "It isn't just a cult any more. It's a conspiracy and somehow they've got the government here under their control. They're... letting us go, I suppose, but they're telling us not to tell anyone what we know or to take action against them. It's a peace offering. It's also a threat."

_"Kødder du?"_

Vegard shook his head. "We wouldn't joke about this, Calle. Some things happened back then we've never told anyone back home."

Calle mulled that over and commented, “There was a time when seeing a man blow his brains out would have really fucked us up.”

Bård grunted. “I don’t remember ever being that innocent.”

They drove in silence for several minutes. Vegard said suddenly, _"Helvete_ , I'm starving."

A wave of exhaustion rolled down Calle's body like a bucket of cold water. His adrenaline was wearing off. Or it was jet lag. And he was hungry too. And uncomfortable in his suit. Why did he agree to come on this stupid trip? Oh right. Money. He said lightly, "Don't worry, Vegard. We're sure to see a McDonald's in a few kilometers and you can have a Big Mac. There must be some law here that you have to build a McDonald's within walking distance of every home."

Vegard nodded and drove several more minutes in silence. As he steered the SUV towards a highway service plaza (complete with a McDonald’s) he said, “Calle, I need you to send a text for us on your phone."

"On my phone?"

"Ours might be traced. They don't know you."

"Seriously?"

"The text will be going to Canada, I think."

"Okay?"

"Bård, can you look it up?"

_"Ja_ , I have the number right here."


	6. Stayin' Alive on I-55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up!

[ ](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/YStW4_Ch6StayinAlive_zps194ikelc.jpg.html)

It was going to be a three-hour drive back to Chicago (not including the stop for fast food), and Calle spent most of the first hour processing what he had seen and silently considering the behavior of his friends. Bård, still wearing his black suit jacket and tie and uncharacteristically wide awake in the back seat, watched the road behind them and commented every few minutes, “All clear.” Meanwhile Vegard frowned at the road ahead of them with such intensity that Calle thought his hands would surely squeeze through the steering wheel. This wasn't like them.

Over the last year all of them had healed in different ways from their bizarre experience in Japan. Bård had dealt with it by spending more time with his wife and had been back to his old sarcastic self at work within a couple of months. Their young friend Magnus had taken up meditation and Calle envied Magnus's newfound ability to stay completely tranquil even when things went haywire on stage. Vegard, as usual, had faced the aftermath with denial and repression and had distracted himself with his airplane obsession. Vegard had always been bad but in the last year Calle had unwillingly learned so much about planes he thought he could probably open a flying school. But considering everything, he thought they'd all come through the trauma reasonably intact.

So what was this? And who had the brothers contacted? After texting the words:  _“B and V Ylvisåker. Going to Chicago. Help.”_ to the number Bård gave him, Calle had been startled to receive an almost immediate response that read: _“Urgency?”_

Calle had texted back, at Vegard’s direction, _“Made contact with The Church.”_

_“Will arrange bodyguards. I’ll meet you myself within 36 hours. SOS if situation becomes urgent.”_

When Calle read the reply to Vegard he only nodded and returned to studying _the hell_ out of the road.  

The tension in the car was getting to Calle; he was starting to get a backache and his head hurt.  And it was becoming increasingly clear that he really didn't know the brothers as well as he thought.  And that bothered him.  A lot.   After an hour he couldn’t take it any longer.  He blurted out, _“What the fuck_ is happening?!”

Vegard startled at the outburst and immediately checked on his brother in the rearview mirror. Bård was still twisted in his seat, watching the road behind them. Stiff as a board.  Vegard shook his head at Calle and returned to his thoughts about Bård.   In the days after Sif told them about Billy’s hearing, and despite everyone at the farm trying to help, Vegard hadn't seen Bård hadn't relax for even a moment. And the nightmares had come every night for both of them. Bård spent a lot of time with Sif in her garden, and although Vegard had occasionally caught raised voices between them, he didn't know what they fought about.  

But Sif was better at being nurturing than he was, so Vegard hadn’t tried any of his usual tricks to distract his brother.   And he could see how Maria worried over Bård; she was usually good at handling him.  And obviously Vegard was there to support him, right?  

Right now Bård seemed truly afraid, and it was Vegard's responsibility to keep Bård going.  That was what was important.  The Church was more powerful than before, and Bård was freaking out. He had to help Bård.  That's what he would focus on.

Calle grunted and looked out his side window _.  "Fint._  Ignore me. But it isn't fair to get me involved in this and not at least give me a _hint_ about what we are supposed to be defending against."

Vegard shook his head again and asked, "Defending against?"

"Right, I don't know what or who I'm supposed to defend against? I get that you think there is some sort of conspiracy in the government here?  Does that mean we should fear the police? Will someone try to arrange our suicides?"

"Oh that."

Calle did a double take.  " _Oh that?!_   That's your response?  Is there something _worse_ you guys are worried about?!"

Behind him Bård said, "A lot worse."

Vegard said, " _Nei, nei, nei, nei._   The situation hasn't changed -"

Bård turned and barked, "Of course it has!"

Vegard held his breath and Bård went back to his watch, grumbling and cursing.

Calle rubbed his forehead.  "Come on.  You two are scaring me and I don't even understand why."

Vegard swallowed convulsively and finally said, "It's personal.  Bård needs time to think about this and-"

Bård let out a shout of frustration but didn't offer more.

Calle was starting to feel a bit like vomiting.  He rubbed his anxious stomach.  Maybe he should have passed on the Big Mac.  And maybe he should have had Magnus teach him some of that Buddhist meditation.  All this anxiety couldn't be good for him.  He said quietly, "You owe me, Vegard."

Vegard heaved an enormous sigh and said finally, "I don't know what we should tell you.  Bård?  It's up to you."  He glanced in the mirror.  Bård's shoulders were hunched even more than before.

Calle sighed. “Come on. You can cross off your many, _many_ life debts to me if you’ll just say what's got you two so freaked out.  I don't need specifics."

Bård asked softly, "Wasn't the violent murder in the courtroom enough?"

"Honestly, it wasn't.  That was shocking but we've been through far worse than that."

To Vegard’s surprise, Bård let out a long breath and said, _“Og så..._ it was in the news that we were kidnapped by a cult back in Y2K...  2000. What do you know about it? What did Vegard tell you?”

Calle turned in his seat to look back at Bård, still turned away. “Vegard never told me anything about it. But the papers said Vegard got hurt trying to escape. Shot in the legs and that's why he had to do all that rehab. A little girl helped you get away but was shot and died. I remember something about local Norwegian-Americans that were in a big gun battle over you and the cultists burned down their town. That was before Sofie was born. I read you named her after the little girl that died.”

Bård glanced back at him and rolled his eyes. “ _Nei._ That’s not true. Actually, none of that is right."

“Okay. Too bad, it's a good story.”

"The real story is a better tale.  But worse for us."

Vegard offered, “Calle, the person you texted earlier was with the FBI. They’re going to send bodyguards."

"The FBI?  Is this about Canada?"

 _"Nei."_  Vegard added authoritatively, "Bård, everything is going to be okay.  You don’t have to tell him the details.”

Bård shouted, _"Fy faen,_ Vegard!"

Vegard swallowed convulsively but didn't reply.

Calle looked between the brothers and breathed, “I didn’t think anything could be worse than Tokyo.”

Bård groaned. _“Nei,_ Tokyo was worse, but it was wrapped up in all that magic _dritt._   In 2000, there weren't giant snakes or flying moths.  The people in that cult were just evil.  It was bad. They locked us up, beat us up and told us they were going to kill us.  We saw them burn a woman alive after mutilating her horribly. They tried to do the same to Vegard.” Bård swallowed heavily. The silence stretched.

Vegard held his breath, mentally urging Bård to compose himself and to shut the hell up. Why was he opening up now? About the kidnapping or... anything? What had changed?  He remembered Maria had approached Vegard right before they left for America clearly wanting to tell him something.  But they'd been interrupted by one of the kids and they never finished their talk.  Had something new happened she wanted to warn him about?  Maybe Helene could find out.

He searched his memory.  Had Bård given some clue over the last year?  At work even little things hadn't been up for discussion.  Bård just went along with whatever Vegard said, even when Vegard knew Bård would normally have disagreed. Even when Vegard really needed Bård to help. Bård was the funny one. Vegard just knew how to get things done properly.

Vegard chewed his lip, not really watching the long, empty road ahead. Bård had done more and more projects on his own this summer. He’d taken interviews and made a variety of appearances without Vegard. Vegard assumed it was because he didn’t want to be coerced into talking about Tokyo or performing their newfound magic tricks for an audience. Because to do their tricks they had to sync up.

Vegard let out a breath. These days Bård hated having to share his consciousness with his older brother. Even if it was only enough to sing a song. Never enough to share a feeling or a memory. And it was unfair; Bård knew what Vegard was thinking but wouldn't reciprocate. Bård kept the doors to his own thoughts firmly shut, bolted and locked. Vegard didn’t have the courage to ask Bård why; a part of him worried Bård blamed him for the hell he'd been through. The more rational part of him thought Bård's self-imposed isolation was because Bård still felt guilty about what he'd done to Vegard under the influence of the demon "Bob". Vegard had forgiven him long ago, and Bård must know the way he felt. Right?  Vegard couldn't find the words to ask out loud.  There was no point in prying anyway. Bård was an adult.  He would figure it all out and tell Vegard when he was ready.  Vegard would just be there to help Bård.  Like now.  When Bård was upset by what happened in the courtroom.

Vegard sighed again.  He didn't know how to help. He didn't even know how to ask Bård what he needed. He cursed himself.  Why was he so completely helpless when it came to feelings?  It was so much easier to memorize planes and schematics and numbers than it was to understand his brother.  Shouldn't it be the other way?

Calle studied his friends. Vegard was lost in thought and letting out heaving sighs every few seconds.  Who knew what convoluted nonsense he was ruminating over?  And why was Bård so angry at his brother?   Behind him Bård was still turned toward the back window of the car. There were no cars behind them for as far as the eye could see.  Which was pretty far; the land here was as flat as a parking lot.  But Bård was still scared.  Calle frowned. That wasn't so odd in itself.  Bård was one of the most cowardly people Calle knew, at least in terms of physical confrontation. Wait, was Bård's fear of getting beaten related to this trauma from so long ago? Calle suddenly felt terrible about teasing Bård about his cowardice all these years.

And he hadn't really thought about it over the last decade, but Vegard hadn't ever confided in him about the kidnapping, even when he was very, very drunk. When Vegard was drunk he was embarrassingly affectionate and open. Two months ago Calle had taken Vegard out for drinks and by the end of the night Vegard was hugging Calle and crying on his shoulder about Tokyo. They hadn't spoken of that night since; Vegard must have been mortified about it. But no, he'd never, ever spoken of the kidnapping.

Bård, still turned away, finally said, “Tokyo wasn’t the first time Vegard’s been tortured because of me.” He added lightly, "...and I get upset if anyone tortures him but me..." His voice trailed off for a moment and he said, "I don't mean..."

Calle cringed.

Vegard grunted, “Bård, stop talking.”

Calle held up his hands. “You don’t have to say any more. I understand.  I get it.  It was bad. If you say these people are evil, I trust you. I don't need to know details. I'm sorry I pried about it.”

Bård nodded and let out a breath.

Calle looked back to Vegard for advice, but Vegard’s gaze was fixed on his brother via his rearview mirror. Calle sighed and looked at the road ahead.

He shrieked, _"Truck!"_

An enormous Mack truck barreled down the road directly at them, horn blaring. Vegard cursed and yanked the wheel hard left.  They skidded onto the opposite lane’s shoulder, narrowly missing the truck’s cab as it flew past them in a blur of chrome and bright red paint. As the trailer passed, their right side mirror snapped off with a pop and air turbulence violently shook the SUV.

Vegard wrestled with the steering wheel, the brakes squealing in protest.   They finally came to rest off the side of the road, facing the wrong way, the SUV’s front end buried in the tall corn stalks of a farmed field facing the interstate.

Vegard let out a shaky breath and turned off the ignition. _“Jesus Christ._ Is anyone hurt?”

Calle patted himself down. “I didn't piss on myself. That’s a victory. Considering the cloth seats.”

Vegard nodded and pushed his hair back from his face with trembling fingers. “I almost killed us.  Bård, are you hurt?”

Calle looked back at Bård. He hadn't been wearing his seatbelt and had been thrown against the back of Vegard's seat. He looked a bit rumpled. As he struggled back into his seat, Bård's eyes were round as dinner plates.  His only comment was, "It's fine, I'm okay." Calle doubted that. If Bård really was fine he would be cursing or laughing at his big brother’s driving. Instead he'd only shrunken back into his seat like a frightened child.   And now he was making a show of buckling his seat belt. Calle looked back at Vegard, who was back to staring at Bård in the mirror. _Helvete._ This was some serious shit.

A moment later a burly middle-aged white man with a ridiculously long salt-and-pepper beard tapped on Calle's window.  The truck driver.   He looked so much like a redneck American Calle would have laughed if his heart wasn't still pounding from the near miss.   The man even had a "National Rifle Association" cap on his head and a plaid shirt tucked into blue jeans.  The shirt really showed off his beer belly.  Very stylish.  The man put something metal on the roof of the car.

Calle lowered the window.  

The man bent down.  "Everybody okay in there?"

Calle nodded.  "Yes.  Are you okay?"

"Praise the Lord, yeah, I'm okay.  Name's Robert."  He reached forward and shook hands with Calle.

The man didn't look like a Robert.  He looked like a Billy Bob or a Tommy Lee.  Calle nodded at him.  "Nice to meet you.  I'm Carl." 

"A pleasure.  What happened back there?"  He squinted at Vegard.  "You fall asleep?"

Vegard swiped at his eyes.  "I'm sorry, it was my fault."

Calle patted Vegard's arm and said, "No, it was mine.  I should have offered to drive for a while."

The trucker pulled a wallet out of his shirt pocket and handed an insurance card to Calle.  "You got your insurance info?  I'll need to call this in, just for liability reasons.  You understand."  Calle looked at the card.  The card belonged to _Robert Graves._  What sort of parent would do that to a kid?

Calle answered, "This car is rented."

"No problem.  Got the papers?"

Vegard leaned toward Calle, fished the rental papers out of the glove compartment and handed them to the man.  He in turn pulled out a smartphone and took a snapshot of the papers and handed them back.  Calle followed suit with the card and returned it to the trucker.

Robert said, "I don't think your car is damaged beyond some scratches and this."  He picked up the crushed right side mirror from where he'd put it on the roof and handed it over.  "Damn lucky it wasn't worse.  I think we missed each other by an inch or so.  Need help backing out of the corn?"

Calle took the ruined mirror and smiled.  "That would be very nice of you.  You're very understanding considering we nearly caused a front end collision."

The trucker said, "I've been driving for over thirty years.  I've seen plenty of folks fall asleep at the wheel.  I'm just glad I didn't have to call the police and report a car full of dead people again, praise Jesus."

Calle nodded.  "Well. I think maybe it’s my turn to drive for a little while?  Vegard, why don't you lie down in the back seat?”

Vegard nodded and unbuckled his seatbelt, his eyes still shining with tears. He got out of the car and climbed into the back seat with Bård without saying a word.

Calle opened his own door and pushed his way past the bent cornstalks and settled into the driver’s seat. It didn't look like there would be a problem backing onto the shoulder, but the trucker helped guide him anyway.  Once the SUV was on firm pavement, he walked around the SUV to the driver's side.  He leaned forward again, saying, "Don't look like there's any damage to the frame.  You all sure you're okay?  It can sometimes take a while for the shock to sink in."

Behind him, Bård let out a strangled squeak.  That's what the security woman had said earlier.  Calle shivered and had the passing thought that perhaps he was asleep and this was a dream.  Nah.  He wasn't that lucky.

Calle nodded, "Yes, we're okay. Thank you again."  

The trucker ducked his head and said, "I'll say an extra prayer for you fellas tonight. Have a safe trip.  There's a rest area about two miles in the direction you are heading.  Pull in, take a good look at the car and take a break.  You'll need it."

"Thank you."

"God Bless."

Calle watched the trucker walk back to his rig, climb in and pull back out into traffic and out of sight.  

As Calle adjusted the seat and steering column for himself he said casually, "I guess we are back in business.  I'm glad to be driving, Vegard.   I bet driving this monster is a lot of fun." 

He adjusted the rearview mirror and glanced back at the brothers. Bård had his head on Vegard’s shoulder. Vegard was staring at the back of Calle's seat in a daze.

"Well then.  We're off."  Calle gunned the engine and pulled back onto the road.  When would he ever learn?  He definitely should have stayed home. 


	7. Check-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calle orders up some salmon

By the time they arrived at their hotel, Calle was exhausted. Bård had somehow managed to fall asleep with his head on Vegard’s shoulder. Vegard hadn’t said a word until they crossed into Chicago's city limits. Then, as per usual, Vegard had only been too happy to give detailed (and unsolicited) backseat driving instructions. But at least he'd stopped silently crying. So Calle let him talk.

Calle pulled the battered SUV to the front of an upscale downtown Hilton and handed off the keys to a valet that looked fifteen years old. Bård had reserved three rooms at the hotel, but the brothers were rattled enough by the shooting that they decided to share a room. Calle was given the key card to the room next to theirs so they would be able to talk through the adjoining door. As they finished checking in, two large men wearing black suits, sunglasses and earpieces approached and spoke quietly with Vegard. Bodyguards.

As they all silently got into the elevator with the bellboy and their luggage, Calle considered their appearance. Five men in black suits going all together to the top of the hotel. Very suspicious. He gave the bellboy a big tip.

Calle whistled as they entered the brothers' room. It was corner suite with a sprawling living area, television, wet bar and spectacular view of Lake Michigan. The bodyguard that had entered before them opened the door to Calle's room to check it out. He reappeared after a few moments, nodded at Vegard, and left to take position outside their door with the other man.

Calle peeked into his own room and clucked at the extravagance. "I don't need my own room. I can just sleep on the sofa. These rooms are beyond my budget."

Vegard shook his head. "It's covered, don't worry. And you don't want to sleep in the same room as us. There tends to be a lot of screaming."

"Are you two still having nightmares?"

Bård kicked off his shoes and dropped his clothes in a trail on the floor as he walked toward one of the double beds. He fell facedown on the bed in nothing but boxers and socks. " _Ja._ Still having nightmares. Now _fuck off."_

 _"Fucking off, Mein Kapitän._ " Calle met eyes with Vegard and pulled his suitcase through the connecting door. He laughed as he walked around his suite; it was just as ridiculously lavish as that of the brothers. Well, maybe this was karmic reward for the horrible day. That seemed fair.

They were due to show up at the studio early the next morning, so Calle ordered dinner through room service; he ate grilled salmon and mashed sweet potatoes alone in his underwear while not really watching American television. It was a little depressing. When he knocked softly on the unlocked door between their rooms afterwards, Vegard appeared with wet hair and puffy eyes. He insisted he was going to bed immediately. Bård evidently hadn't woken up yet.

Calle shrugged and decided to take a long leisurely shower. Maybe the hot water would relax the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders.  

As Calle tried to fall asleep in the enormous hotel bed shortly after, he was sure he heard the brothers talking to each other several times. He considered just getting up and going through the unlocked door between the suites, but Ylvis hadn't ever specifically insisted they have adjoining rooms before for any other reason than convenience. He'd probably scare them if he walked in and they would definitely be pissed off if he knocked. And he knew he wouldn't get anything out of them tonight anyway. He decided he'd trust the brothers to call out to him if they needed him. _If they needed him._ That thought unsettled him. They were grown men, after all. He wasn't their father.

An hour after midnight, Calle was still wide awake. He should have been asleep long ago; it was already morning at home. But the day had been scary. Really scary. So he ended up texting back and forth with his wife, talking about nothing, until she said she had to go out for the day. He missed her and he missed Norway and he missed feeling safe, bodyguards notwithstanding. It was well past 0300 when he finally drifted off to troubled sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Vegard closed the door connecting to Calle's room his stomach rumbled from the smell of salmon on Calle's breath. He rubbed his stomach. He was hungry, but it felt like too much effort to bother ordering room service. He was exhausted. Breakfast tomorrow would surely be some heavy American thing. He'd just eat in the morning.

He felt his way back to his bed and rolled into it. He'd just have to force himself to sleep or the jet lag would be killing him tomorrow. And his head hurt. Earlier, once he'd been sure Bård was asleep, Vegard had gotten into the shower and he'd allowed himself the luxury of a decent cry. He couldn't believe he'd been so unforgivably irresponsible as to take his eyes off of the road while driving. He would have left all their families without fathers and husbands. How could he have been so stupid?

Afterward he'd lain in his bed naked (with his towel beneath him to protect the linens of course) staring at the ceiling for an hour before Calle knocked. He'd tried to concentrate on Bård's breathing to calm his own. But sleep hadn't been an option while he was still so angry with himself.

He still felt miserable but for the moment Vegard was completely cried out. He considered taking another shower, this time just to help him relax. But he was too tired for that. Too tired to cry. Too tired to sleep.

So now he dragged himself back to the bed. He was cold, but too tired to get up to put on something to sleep in. He pulled the duvet up to cover his shoulders and resolutely closed his eyes.

Bård softly asked, "Vegard?"

Vegard sighed.  "Thought you were asleep."

"Do you think that hell exists?"

Vegard opened his eyes. _"Hæ?"_

"Hell. Does it exist?"

"Of course not. Why are you asking such a ridiculous thing?"

"I was thinking that I might see Elder Bill there someday."

 _"Sa-tan."_ Vegard rubbed his forehead in annoyance. He wouldn't be able to sleep if Bård was up worrying about something so stupid. "You won't. Hell doesn't exist."

"How do you know?"

"Because the whole concept is preposterous. Besides, you wouldn't be in the same place as him. He'd be in a hell where he got beaten and tortured. At worst, your hell would be something like... standing in line at the grocery store behind an old lady paying for everything in coins. For eternity."

"I murdered a lot of innocent people in Tokyo."

Vegard let out a breath. "You didn't."

"In some of my dreams I see it."

"Those are just dreams. Besides, we aren't judged and punished for what we do in our lives. We die and rot. All that afterlife business is religious nonsense. Just like the whole idea of God."

"Is it? You seem to worship Mothra."

"I don't _worship_ her. I just think she's really cool."

"Sif thinks you worship Mothra."

"Sif thinks there is a worldwide conspiracy run by shape-shifting lizard people. She isn't exactly rational about some things."

Bård remained silent and Vegard thought he might have gone back to sleep. Vegard rolled back onto his side and started visualizing the yellow cottage so he could fall asleep. He'd made it through the front door when Bård said suddenly, "What about rebirth?"

Vegard opened his eyes. The clock by the bed read "01:07". He must have drifted off for a while. "What?"

"What about rebirth?"

"What about it?"

"In Japan everyone talked about the spirit being eternal."

"Okay?"

"Mothra was reborn. Maybe the Hindus have it right. Maybe you just get reborn as something awful to pay for your sins."

" _Fy faen,_ Bård."

"Maybe I'll be reborn as a cockroach. Or a hamster. Hamsters are idiots."

Vegard let out an exasperated breath. "Okay. Think about it. If people are punished for their sins, then who defines what a sin is, Bård? If cosmic retribution exists then which religion's commandments do you follow? And does it only apply to humans? Why not dolphins or elephants? It isn't logical."

Bård didn't respond.

Vegard slowed his breathing again. He imagined the cottage. There were blue and orange and yellow flowers growing on its roof. He put his hand on the door and imagined the painted patterns there. He opened the front door and...

Bård interrupted, "So how do you explain Godzilla? Or the fairies? Or our powers? Or even our wildly improbable ability to survive a lot of incredibly weird adventures?"

Vegard glanced at the clock. 02:47. Maybe he should be thankful Bård was awake. Five hours of sleep so far and no nightmare yet. He said, "We've seen some odd things. We have these abilities that seem like magic. But there is an explanation for them, I'm sure."

"Is there?"

" _Jesus Christ."_  Vegard threw his duvet off and pushed himself up to sit. "I've got to pee."

He staggered to the bathroom, a cavernous affair made of glass and marble with a bank of blindingly white light fixtures over the room-long mirror. He half drifted off as he urinated and then dully watched himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. He looked terrible. It was probably just all the trauma and guilt of the day and jet lag. There was a white terrycloth robe on a hook behind him. He grabbed it and shrugged into it; much easier than finding a t-shirt in his suitcase. Must sleep. Sleep was the goal.

He switched off the light and cautiously felt his way back into his bed. Now the pillows were all in the wrong place. And sleeping in a robe was weird but he couldn't bear the thought of getting up again. He pressed his face into the pillow and the crisp white sheets rustled past his ear. The sound was incredibly loud in the relative silence. Odd. He wondered how the windows were soundproofed. Even thirty stories up they should be able to hear the sounds of the street below. He made a mental note to look at the windows tomorrow morning to see how they were made. He pulled the duvet over his shoulders. At least now he was warm and the sound of the fresh bed linens was cozy.

Bård asked in a small voice, "Do you think my mark has lost its power?"

Vegard grunted, _"Hæ?"_ Maybe he should go try to sleep in Calle's room. No that wouldn't work. Calle's room was too far away.

Bård said, "It didn't trigger in the courthouse. I didn't power up when that gun fired. What if I get attacked with my family? That mark works faster than any reflex. I wouldn't be able to fight back fast enough and-"

Vegard cut him off, feeling a bit less cross. Maybe this what was really keeping Bård awake. He answered, _"Nei nei nei nei_ your mark didn't activate because Bill was already dead."

"Attack me. Right now."

"What do you mean?"

"Attack me to see if my mark still works."

"Have mercy, Bård. I'm tired and I want to sleep."

"It would only take a few seconds."

_"Nei."_

"Why not?"

Vegard blinked at the clock. 02:55. "I don't want to be electrocuted?"

"It won't kill you."

"Go to sleep, _lillebror._ You're fine. It's over. We're safe. Everything will be okay."

"Maybe I'll get Calle to attack me."

"Sleep!"

"Fine. _God natt."_

_"Sov godt!"_


	8. Pretense and Pasta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ylvis introduces Calle to an old friend

[ ](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/YsTw4_Ch8Pasta_zpsv9ep4q4p.jpg.html)

The next morning dawned much, much later than it would have back home. As Bård shook him awake (much, much earlier than he would have preferred), Calle groaned, "Time?"

"Seven."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"Give me a kiss."

"Get up and you can kiss Vegard."

"I hate you."

"I ordered breakfast. Get up or Vegard will eat it all."

Shortly thereafter Calle joined the brothers for a breakfast of fruit and yogurt (Calle made a mental note to be the one to order breakfast tomorrow) and unnaturally light conversation. The brothers both looked better rested than he felt. And they acted like they were back to their old selves. Calle decided to join in the pretense. It was just easier.

After breakfast they were picked up in a big black SUV driven by two big Teutonic men with a crew cuts wearing black t shirts, mirrored sunglasses and earpieces. The driver introduced himself as Dolph and asked Bård if he wanted ice cream.

Calle slid into the back seat next to Vegard and asked, "Ice cream?"

Vegard shrugged. "Don't ask."

Almost at the exact moment Dolph started the car, Bård fell asleep with his head against the side window. Typical.

Calle wondered if there was another car following them, but couldn’t spot one. He’d be having fun if he wasn’t a little worried by the idea that the FBI was concerned enough for their safety to go to all this trouble. Calle didn't particularly want to be shot, and as they passed a dodgy-looking beer garden with a sign claiming "best sushi in town", Calle decided he would try to ignore the dread and enjoy the trip.

The producers they met at the studio were very accommodating, and didn't act surprised by the two Huns standing soberly and silently behind the brothers. Maybe all "celebrities" in America had bodyguards. And the morning meeting seemed to take the brothers’ minds off of the bizarre events of the day before, at least for a while. They were wrapping up their morning work when Calle received another answer to the text he'd sent the previous day. He passed his phone to Vegard, who passed it to Bård.

It said simply, _"Spiaggia, 7 pm, booked under the name "Lee Jenkins". Bring your frie_ nds."*

The afternoon was spent filming in Chinatown, and Calle thought the brothers were in top form, despite (or maybe because of) the weirdness of the day before. Calle was relieved they were at least acting like their old selves, but he no longer felt sure he could tell how they were actually coping.

They wrapped at 17:30 and got into another giant black SUV. Dolph handed them off to a large black man called Romeo with dreadlocks and a Jamaican accent and a hulking Mediterranean man with close cut hair. Calle was too intimidated by the second man to ask his name. But as they drove back to the hotel, Romeo related several hilarious stories about his experiences when he first moved to America. Calle wondered if Romeo the dangerous FBI bodyguard was trying to keep up their spirits due to some impending disaster. Why was he entertaining them? Did he really just like his job a lot? Calle was afraid to ask. Maybe he was just getting paranoid. It made sense. He was still tired.

Ultimately they got back to the hotel in relatively good spirits, all things considered.

Calle showered and changed into a clean pair of trousers and a dress shirt, and after a perfunctory knock on the door between their suites he walked into Ylvis's room. Bård was pulling up his own trousers and frowned up at him.

"What do you want?"

Calle grinned, "Hurry along, boys. We don't want to miss your mysterious FBI stranger."

Vegard walked out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, his hair still wet. "If I am honest, I don't know that you should meet with him."

Calle narrowed his eyes. "Are you suggesting that you can't trust me with your fancy _amerikansk_ government buddies? After everything we've been through?"

Vegard and Bård met eyes. Vegard shrugged. "We just don't want you to get mixed up in something dangerous."

"Too late. Besides, I'm obviously safest if I can be within a _shiny magiske Vegard boble_ in times of danger. Or with the burly men in black T-shirts."

Bård struggled into a dark pullover. "Let's let him come. Calle is an excellent bullet shield in an emergency."

_"Fint.”_

Calle offered, “Besides the food should be good; I looked it up."

Vegard nodded absently and started getting dressed.

Calle leaned against the doorframe and said casually, "It seems to me you boys lead the high life whenever you go to the USA. These rooms must be insanely expensive, even with the exchange rate."

Bård barked a laugh as he tucked his wallet into his pocket. _"Nei,_ they're free of charge."

_"Hæ?"_

"The Hilton CEO contacted us after our kidnapping out of the O’Hare Hilton parking lot back in 2000; it generated bad press for the hotel chain and they were so happy we weren't dead they gave us free rooms for life when we come to the US. We never ask for these fancy suites but that's what we always get."

Vegard nodded. "Besides, the original Hilton family was from Norway. Somewhere near Oslo, I think."

Bård slipped on his shoes and said in English, _"Synchronicity."_

Calle grunted, "Let's go. You're making me feel small and insignificant."

Bård stood and smiled. " _Nei._ It has to be said that at least you not small."

Calle smiled affectionately at his friend and gave him the finger.

 

* * *

 

The restaurant was only a few minutes' walk from the hotel (it was weird walking down the street with the obvious bodyguards), and when they arrived they were ushered immediately to a booth in the corner. The guards stayed outside. They had just ordered drinks when a Asian man in his late forties about Vegard's height slid into the booth next to Calle.

Both brothers lit up when they saw the man, but he held up a hand to subdue their enthusiasm. "Keep it cool, y'all." He spoke with a lazy American Southern drawl that to Calle was incongruous with his appearance. His grey-streaked hair was trimmed close, his grey suit looked expensive, and he was wearing a white gold tie clip over a silk tie. The twang in his voice didn't jibe with the slick business look. But he was obviously friendly.

 

 

Vegard shivered with a wave of relief upon seeing their old friend. They could explain everything to Sam and he'd take care of it. Then they could go home and back to their normal...  well...  usual life. He said softly, in English, "Calle, meet our friend Agent Sam Kim. We wouldn't have survived Illinois if it weren't for him. Sam, this is Calle. He was with us in Tokyo. He's also saved our lives a few times."

Calle smiled and shook Sam's hand, saying, "Perhaps we can start a club."

Sam smiled broadly. His teeth were still blindingly white as they had been fifteen years ago, although that seemed less odd to Vegard nowadays.

Sam nodded at Calle. "I know of your work in Japan, Mr. Hellevang-Larsen. Nice job."

"Thanks! Call me Calle."

"Thank you, Calle."

After their waitress came by and took their orders, Sam leaned in and said, "It's good to see you boys, but tell me what exactly triggered the SOS? My local contact said you went to Springfield for William Hill's probation hearing."

Vegard leaned in as well. "Billy is dead. He shot himself in the courtroom."

Sam raised his brows. "Did he? That's very interesting."

Calle added, "He shot at us too."

"Did he?"

Bård offered, "He missed."

"That's good. It's a little odd the local agent didn't know about that."

Bård offered, "We think it was all prearranged. We were given a letter by a security guard at the courthouse." He handed the folded paper to Sam. "She told us not to tell anyone what happened."

Sam smiled wryly. "Well, you told me. Glad you did." He studied the paper briefly and then held it up to the light.

Vegard squinted up at the paper as well and asked, "How could your contact not know about the shooting?"

"Could have just been timing; paperwork sometimes takes a few days to process. Huh. This paper is watermarked. Definitely came from someone inside."

"That's bad, isn't it?"

Sam handed the paper to Vegard and said, "Maybe.  But very interesting. You've already made the trip worth the price of airfare for the Bureau. Nice work."

Vegard held the paper up and saw the watermark, an eagle and stars behind a striped shield holding arrows and an olive branch, with the word "recycled" printed over its head.   He wondered if other US documents had the mark;  he'd have to check his papers when he got home.

Bård let out a breath and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "It's good to see you, Sam."

Sam touched Bård's arm. "Good to see you too, my friend."

Vegard could feel Bård relax beside him. Everything would be okay.   So he unrolled his napkin, laid it on his lap and said nonchalantly, "We promised Calle we'd explain who you were, Sam. Why you were in Canada. Maybe you should do that?"

Sam took a sip of his water and glanced at Bård. After receiving a nod he said, "Well you see, Calle, I worked Vegard and Bård here's case back in 2000 as a field agent for the Bureau; that got me a promotion and upped my security clearance several levels. After 9/11, I transferred over to the FBI's domestic terrorism task force. We've vastly improved our methods since then, and now Canada lets us work freely in their country to keep the maniacs from striking anywhere in North America. That's why I was in Canada. So." He glanced at the brothers. "Does Calle here know how much the FBI has had to deal with you two punks? We probably should have a special Ylvisåker division. It's too much work for just poor 'lil old me."

Vegard grinned. "No, Calle thinks we only have magical powers and can play guitar."

Sam laughed and gave Calle a wink. "Playing guitar is pretty important."

Calle asked hesitantly, "Should you be talking about this in such a public place?"

Sam leaned in and answered conspiratorially, "Loud public places like this are tough to bug, and the booth keeps lip readers from getting much out of us. Don't look up, but the feed from the surveillance camera watching this table is monitored by Homeland Security. The owner is CIA. The waitress is a black belt in jiu-jitsu."

Calle frowned at Sam, unsure if he was joking.

Bård gave Calle a deadpan nod and asked, "So, are we safe? They killed Elder Bill... or made him commit suicide... will they come after us?"

Sam sobered, but remained silent when the waitress brought them fresh hot bread and olive oil. He grabbed a piece of bread and said, "Look. I don't think the upper echelons in the Church have any interest in spending resources to pursue you; I don't think they ever have and if we are to believe this note they won't. It was the girl they really wanted."

Vegard said, "Since Tokyo we've been seriously attacked four times"

Bård corrected, "Six times.  Seven including the one outside Oslo."

"I'm only including the really dangerous ones."

"Then if you include yesterday, it's been five serious times.  We could have been shot."

"Okay."  Vegard turned back to Sam.  "Anyway, we worry for our families."

Sam nodded. "I understand. But most of the coordinated attacks against you were from outside parties interested in your new abilities, not from the Church of Everlasting Worship. Last year we hunted down one of the groups, the ones that tried to grab you in Stavanger. They were from a Russian mobster coalition operating out of Ukraine and were harassing everyone who made a difference during the Titan attacks. They weren't specifically interested in you two. We nabbed the ringleader when they tried to grab the voodoo queen in New Orleans that nailed the Mexican Chupacabra."

Vegard raised a brow. "We didn't know that. We thought the Stavanger men were just drunk crazy people."

Bård nodded. "You should have told us."

"I apologize for that. Once I ensured they weren't going to be a danger to you I frankly forgot about it with all the other cases I was handling. Sorry I didn't update you."

Vegard held up a hand. "That's okay."

Bård said, "It's reassuring that you are keeping such careful tabs on us."

Sam nodded. "Now from what I know the attacker in Warsaw _was_ a mentally unstable lunatic. He's still safely locked away in treatment, at least as of this morning."

Vegard glanced at his brother.  "That's good;  he scared the hell out of Bård."

Bård shrugged.

Sam continued, “I'll tell you another thing: the Church of Everlasting Worship has been behaving itself these last few years. During the Titan attacks the Church went dark. I expect they were waiting for the world to end so they could take over. After the Titans fell they didn’t reappear. An agent I spoke today with said they think they’ve made alliances with some other fringe apocalypse groups. And since the Titans there are at least three new religions in North America alone. With big memberships."

Bård rubbed his forehead. "So we've fucked up their plans twice now, and now they’ve joined forces with other maniacs?"

Sam nodded. "You've fucked up their plans up three times, actually. Once in Illinois, once in Canada and then presumably in Tokyo."

"Canada?"

Sam grabbed another piece of bread. "Sorry, I'm starving; I haven't eaten since breakfast. Yeah, in Canada when you two intercepted that note and flash drive from Mark Petrakas after he hijacked your plane. That was all sponsored by The Church of E. W."

Vegard frowned. "I don't understand."

Sam stopped chewing. "What don't you understand?"

"How the Church was involved with the terrorists in Canada."

"Didn't I send you a letter about that?"

Vegard and Bård both shook their heads. Calle leaned in. "A letter about what?"

Sam wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin and asked, "About the note. The one written in Satanic script? The one giving the go ahead for the..." He paused, frowning.

Vegard and Bård glanced at each other and back at Sam.

He blinked at them and leaned in. "You do remember a giant missile?"

They answered together, "Yes?"

Sam leaned back and studied them. Finally he grunted and said, "Well, well. I guess some of that might still be classified. I'll double check and send you a expurgated report."

Bård frowned and hissed, "Are you telling me those maniacs in Canada were trying to blow up Wyoming for Satan?"

Sam held up his hand. "I'll send you the report."

Calle held up a finger, “I’m sorry... blow up Wyoming?"

Without looking at Calle, Vegard asked, "Why don't they have a anger against us... uh... a..."

Bård said helpfully, "Grudge."

Calle said, "Vendetta."

Vegard frowned, "Yes, why don't they have a vendetta against us? If we destroy all their plans? And how much power do they have? They controlled that courthouse in Springfield."

Sam frowned as the waitress came back and took their orders. When she left he said, "I'm interested in what happened there. I'll look into it. As for a vendetta against you two - I don't know. From what I recall, one of the fundamental beliefs of The Church of E.W. is that all things happen for a reason. And that when Satan is supposed to take over He will. So you're all part of the plan."

Bård pinched the bridge of his nose. "That sounds like something Ruby would say. I mean, what she _would have_ said."

Sam nodded. "The Church has enclaves all over North America, Mexico and Europe, and, like I told you, they've been gaining members and allies since the Titan attacks. But we can't have them taking over state capitals. That is not okay. But generally speaking, the Church is only one of many homegrown subversive and/or militant groups. We keep tabs on all of them, and as long as we know where they are, and what they are doing, and we feel confident they aren't causing active harm, we let them do their thing."

Bård insisted, "But they killed those sisters. And that girl in their prison. And they tried to kill us."

Sam sighed. "Since 9/11 the FBI and CIA and RCMP have a lot more power and access to each other's information. We don't think the Church has killed anyone since you ran into them."

"But you didn't know about the shooting in Springfield. Maybe you just don't know."

"Hmm. Well, if they are still serving up human sacrifices they're being very careful about it. We are trying to keep 350 million people safe from the nutcases; I'll admit we could have missed something."

Bård glanced at Calle. He was studying them intensely, a half-disbelieving smile on his face. Bård scowled, "What are you smiling about?"

"I'm not smiling. I'm interested. Very James Bond."

Vegard rolled his eyes and said, "Sam. We need to know if they'll come after us or our families."

"I don't think the Church will come after you. Not if they gave you this note. But that doesn't exclude more run-of-the-mill madmen or the darker side of the supernatural community from attacking you. From what I've heard, you are more than capable of protecting yourselves. " Sam took a sip of his drink and added, "You know, the balance of power among the bigger magical councils is still in flux after the attacks last year; our magic specialists have been very busy."

Vegard sighed. "I don't really want to know about that."

Calle held up a hand. "Let me make sure I understand. The FBI has a supernatural division?"

"Yes sir." Sam grinned as their waitress approached with their food. "Where do you think they got the idea for The X-files?"

 

 

Once they started eating, the brothers visibly relaxed and seemed to enjoy their meals, catching up on news that had nothing to do with cultists or missiles or bioweapons or lost treasures or anything else that involved saving the world. Instead they commiserated about the demands of providing for their families as well as the particular challenge of raising teen girls (Sam had a thirteen-year-old daughter at home).  Calle found he was the expert on the topic, which both pleased and shamed him immensely.

Calle still felt mystified by the brothers' long-standing relationship with the FBI, but thought it was probably better to wait to ask Bård later for an explanation. He knew Ylvis had had a pretty strange life, but this was a bit more than what was believable. Not as believable as, say, a sparkly moth the size of a 747.

As they said goodbyes over dessert, Sam handed a business card to Vegard. "If you want to make sure you stay on the good side of the magical crowd, talk to this guy. He's our contact for the Midwest. You can trust him with your life; works for justice, that sort of thing. Saved my bacon once about eight years back."

Vegard glanced at the card and said, "His occupation is 'Wizard'?"

"That's the guy. Call his answering service tonight. He'll get back to you within a day or two." Sam called for the check and paid for it in cash before the others could object. Then he winked at them, saying, "I've got to run. I'll get back to you with any new information. For the next day or two we’ll have someone watching over you three, even if you don’t see them. There are two men outside waiting for you now. They're wearing black and will ask if you want some ice cream."

Vegard rolled his eyes. "We know. It's a little silly."

"It was Bård's idea for a password, as I recall."

Bård sighed. "So more Men in Black? Can't they wear jeans, or a cheery yellow track suit? My wife is scared of those solemn FBI types."

"They train a long time to be scary."

"Ah. But can they protect us from supernatural attacks?"

Sam nodded. "They'll do their best. I'll try to arrange a third pair of eyes to keep watch when you are outside. Even so, at least _try_ to stay out of trouble."

"We'll try."

"And keep me informed. You can use your own phone. Just don't give unnecessary details in your texts; no need to make it easy for the bad guys to find you."

"Okay. And thanks, Sam."

Sam bowed his head. "My pleasure. Be careful out there, gentlemen. Good night."

The three men answered in unison, "Good night."

 

 

After Sam left, Vegard looked carefully at the card he'd been given and then passed it to Calle. It was a worn, plain cream-colored card that said in black letters: _“Harry Dresden, Wizard”_ with a phone number and a list of services he would and would not provide. Evidently Love Potions were off-limits.

Calle passed the card to Bård and shrugged. “I suppose it can’t hurt to call. Might be interesting?”

Bård studied the card solemnly. “A year ago I would have laughed at this.”

Vegard sighed, _“Ja_. Let’s get dessert.”

Calle shook his head. “How can you still be hungry?”

Vegard shrugged and waved their waitress over.

The nordmenn lingered over their dessert and finally walked out into the night air. Waiting for them were two new large, serious, burly men wearing black T-shirts and earpieces.  One muttered to Bård, "Would you like us to get you some ice cream, Sir?"

Bård nodded seriously back at him. "Two scoops, please. Rocky Road."

"Yes, sir."

Calle fought hard not to laugh.  But at least he didn't have to worry as they walked back to their hotel.  No one would be so stupid as to attack the Men in Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now would be a good time (for those of you who haven't already seen it) to take a look at Routcliffe's story "Superboy". It is set in the Ylvis Saves The World universe after Ylvis's battle in Tokyo and is fantastically well-written. 
> 
>  Next up in this story: "Chapter 9: Meeting Mister." The adventure finally begins in earnest!


	9. Meeting Mister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bård has a bad dream. Then things get worse.

[ ](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/YStW4_Ch9_MeetMisterRud_zps7kppl7m1.jpg.html)

_Bård stumbled forward on the linoleum of the underground military facility. Unable to catch himself, he landed facedown on the green metal desk. Hallas, the big Greek in army fatigues, held him down while the other man clumsily searched his pockets._

_"This is too awkward. Get that coat off of him."_

_Hallas unlocked the cuffs around Bård's wrists and the two men roughly pulled his parka off, yanked his sweater over his head, and searched his jeans' empty pockets. The handcuffs went back on and Hallas pulled Bård upright._

_The blond soldier, Weber, started turning out the parka's various zippered compartments. He asked, "What's your name?"_

_Bård swallowed hard. "Bård Hansen." He needed to maintain the fake accent. What accent was he using again?_

_"What are you doing out here, Bort?"_

_"Ve ahre varry lost, you see. Please, my brother is varry hurt. He needs deh doctor."_

_Weber pulled the flashdrive out of the inner zippered pocket and unfolded the paper wrapped around it. He looked carefully at the note and then opened it up for Hallas to see. Bård squinted it at it. Sure enough, the characters the brothers had thought might be Thai or Hindi were clearly the same Satanic letters Bård had looked up on his phone after the meal with Sam. Were these terrorists part of the cult then? Or just mercenaries?_

_Hallas's grip around Bård's upper arm tightened painfully. He growled, "Where the fuck did you get that flash drive?"_

_"Ve vere in deh plane crash. Dis man died ond-"_

_Hallas roared and threw Bård hard against a wall.  He leapt towards Bård and caught him before he'd had a chance to slide all the way to the floor.  So.  This was happening again. Kjempeflott._

_Hallas locked his hands around Bård's throat. "Is Mark dead? Did you kill my brother?"_

_Bård tried to answer, but only managed a strangled croak as Hallas pushed him up the wall, holding him by the neck._

_Weber shouted, "Stop it! He can't talk if you kill him!"_

_"That's fine by me."_

_Bård's feet were no longer touching the ground and his vision blurred.  The rushing sound like a waterfall filled his ears and the room went dark.  He could sleep.  Just a little sleep._

_Hallas slapped Bård hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Wake up, you son-of-a-bitch!"_

_Bård licked his lips and tasted his own blood. It was saltier than he remembered.  Hallas hit him again, this time in the ear.   A steady whining sound drowned out the water now. Not an improvement._

_He was only vaguely aware of the men as they questioned him. They were very angry.  The Greek wanted to kill him.  Bård pulled at the handcuffs, now locked to the back of the metal chair in which he was sitting.  His legs were cold; he was only wearing a T-shirt and boxer briefs.  He must have passed out earlier.  Did they undress him?  The idea unnerved him._

_He kept trying to explain what had happened, but Hallas kept hitting him and it was hard to concentrate. He thought maybe other people were coming and going from the room. Were they in the cult too?  Didn't they care Hallas was beating him to death?  And wasn't Vegard bleeding to death somewhere?  Bård couldn't remember.  Maybe he had a concussion._

_Hallas yanked Bård to his feet and bent him over the desk, his arm around Bård's throat. Bård felt a moment of panic as the bigger man pressed his hulking body against Bård's backside and snarled into his ear, "Listen to me, you shit-eating fucktard.  I'm going to kill your brother in front of you, and then I'll do worse to you."_

_"I didn't-"  Bård's protest was cut off;_ _Hallas had tightened his grip.  Bård's throat was on the verge of buckling._

_"Shut the fuck up!"_

_Bård's skin went cold. That wasn't Hallas's voice. It was Elder Bill's voice. It asked, "When you killed my daughter, did she beg for mercy?  Was she screaming while you raped and murdered her? I'll do the same to you boys. But you'll last much, much longer, and you'll scream until your throats bleed.  You'll feel every minute of it.  Every second."_

_Bård could only mouth the words, "It wasn't us. We didn't do it."  He went limp, too frightened to struggle._

_Another voice whispered, "Of course you killed them. You killed all of them.  You want to kill all the rest."  Bob.  Bob was going to win and Bård would become a monster._

_Bård stared down at the surface of the desk. It was covered in blood. No, it was the surface of a pool of blood. Bob's voice breathed, "You did this. You killed them. Drink it. You want it." The demon pressed Bård's face down into the still-warm blood and it flowed up his nose, into his mouth and down his throat. It tasted delicious._

 

Bård came awake with a start, aching with terror, his entire body drenched in sweat.  A moment later Vegard shouted and sat up suddenly in the other bed. Bård could just make him out in the dim city lights that peeked through the curtains over the big hotel room window.

Vegard rubbed his face in his hands, murmuring, " _Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ..."_ over and over. After a few moments he squinted towards Bård. "You awake?"

Bård couldn't manage an answer. He only nodded.

Vegard swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached to turn on the bedside light.  " _Faen_ , Bård, you look terrible. Was it a bad one? Mine was bad."

Bård nodded again. The dream had been so vivid that he was afraid he might still be asleep. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. Vegard was still there, frowning at him with worry.

Vegard sighed and moved to sit on Bård's bed. He hesitated for a moment but then rested a hand on Bård's arm and patted it.   He didn't try to touch his mind, only patted him with sympathy.  The touch broke him. Bård couldn't hold back a sob of misery. So he sat up and let his brother hold him. That was usually Maria's job these days; but Vegard would have to do for tonight. He knew the routine.

Vegard hugged his brother tightly and rubbed his back, murmuring, "It's over, we're okay, it was just a dream. Eyes open. Open your eyes. Look around. We're in the hotel. There are guards outside. We're safe. Just breathe with me. Focus on breathing. I'm going to count for you... breathe in now... _én... to... tre..."_

Bård shook his head;  he was too upset to do the exercise.

"It's okay to cry.  Go ahead."

Bård cried into his brother's shoulder, hating himself for being so weak.  Grateful that Vegard wouldn't tease him about this later.  Because it might be Vegard crying tomorrow night.  They didn't tease each other about this.  This horror was sacrosanct.

 

* * *

 

During a break in filming the next morning, Vegard called the number on the wizard's card that Sam had given them.   He left a voice message and by afternoon he had a text message with an address not far from where they were working.   By five o’clock they’d finished filming, changed back into street clothes and were walking to their meeting with the magician. They were escorted by Romeo the Jamaican and an equally intimidating Hispanic man called Neil;  they were both wearing black T-shirts, black jeans, earpieces and mirrored sunglasses. 

The locals had complained that the summer weather was unseasonably cold, but 25 degrees Celsius was almost tropical in the minds of the Norwegians, and they were pleased to be comfortable in T-shirts and jeans. Even Vegard wasn’t cold for once.

They were so warm that they even stopped at a smoothie shop on the way to cool off. Then, with the clear blue sky far above the towering city buildings around them, they walked toward their meeting, chatting and sipping their drinks, guided by their escorts.  Bård even felt a bit lighthearted. On a beautiful day like this it was difficult to be frightened by anything and he said so.

Calle shook his head with disapproval. "Now you've jinxed us, Bård."

"Nonsense!" Bård went up on his toes and overhand tossed his empty smoothie cup into a sidewalk garbage can. It flew directly in and he cheered, _"Nothin' but net!"_ He looked at the group, now slightly ahead of him, and shook his head. "No one saw that?"

Calle's response was cut off as the air shook with a bone-rattling low roar. A centimeter-thick sheet of ice shot out from an underground parking lot entrance on their side of the sheet, immediately followed by the blur of an enormous mass in an uncontrolled slide on the ice. The irregular blob rolled and slid violently, finally slamming against the window front of a Starbucks coffee shop across the street, splattering the building with brown and green slime.

With the first roar, Bård felt Mothra's mark activate and time slowed down. As his entire body roused with fiery anticipation, he ran his tingling tongue over the back of his teeth. It was back. _Kraften_.  He hadn't lost his power. He'd been stupid to think he had.  The rush of pleasure and relief was almost erotic; the contrast and colors around him intensified, the hairs on his arms stood on end, and the sound of his own breathing reverberated in his head.

He turned his attention to the blob. No, it was a monster. The thing was at least three meters tall and had two thick sinewy arms thicker than Bård's torso.   It was shaped a bit like a man; it had a low, ridged forehead and beady unblinking dark eyes that were focused on something in the parking garage, Bård couldn't see what. Its wet grey skin was covered in vines or ropes or... spinach? A rank rotting smell hit Bård like a wall. He couldn't help but retch from the sickening sweet odor of rotting garbage and sewage.

The garbage monster, or troll, or whatever it was, howled and scrabbled to stand on the ice as terrified patrons ran screaming out of the coffee shop, laptops and lattes in hand.

Romeo appeared suddenly beside Bård with a pistol in his hand (where had he hidden it?) and moved towards Calle and Vegard, shouting and motioning them away from the monster. Bård blinked heavily at the slow-moving tableau. Calle was pulling on Vegard's arm; Vegard was frowning with determination at the monster. Surely Vegard's mark had activated as well. Bård moved toward his brother, but he sensed that even with his relatively faster movement, taking even one step was going to take too long. For the first time in a long time he wished he could hear Vegard's voice in his head without physically touching.

A tall, dark-haired stranger ran out from the parking garage and slid to a stop on the ice, his long black coat floating behind and around him, dreamlike. Three glittering discs, each a meter across and 5 or 6 centimeters thick, shot out of the hands (paws?) of the garbage troll in rapid succession. They narrowly missed the stranger and flew towards a lamppost in front of Vegard, moving quickly in spite of the time dilation Bård was experiencing. The edges of the discs were razor thin, and one hit and sliced through part of the pole, and the other two shot past unhindered. The top of the lamppost began toppling over as Vegard's shield flashed into silvery existence three times. The discs ricocheted away. One shattered the window of a Nike store, setting off a deafening alarm and a rush from the store by customers, some of whom were wearing only one shoe. Another one buried itself in the bricks of what looked like a lingerie boutique. The third flew towards a barista fleeing the scene; she was screaming something or other, it was hard to tell what because she was moving so slowly. Bård looked curiously at the disc as it rotated through the air. It wasn't made of metal; something more like fused wood or plastic. He could see the thing vibrating as it cut through the air towards the woman. It definitely wasn't metal; its cutting power must come from the razor edge. Maybe it was magic. Time crawled as he properly inspected it. There was a translucent area on the plate that was probably a weak spot, so he raised his hand and willed a fireball into existence at the spot. Like flashpaper, the disc flared and disappeared. The barista disappeared around the corner.

Time sped up again as Romeo grabbed Vegard's shoulder and tried to yank him backwards. Vegard protested, "I need to be in front. I have the shield!"

Another barrage of the saucers flew out from the troll and time slowed again. Bård managed to dispatch the ones that threatened two bystanders (why were they running out of the stores? Wasn't it safer to hide inside?) and Vegard's shield pinged several times in quick series. Bård thought the shield must be using a tremendous amount of power to deflect the things because by the seventh time it flashed it appeared translucent, not a mirrored silver. Maybe the shield was running out of power. That hadn't happened before. As Bård turned to destroy a disc chasing another bystander he wondered absently whether the shield used more power to deflect the ultrathin cutting edges; Vegard's shield had successfully deflected several barrages of automatic gun fire in the past. He should probably talk about that with Vegard after this was over. If Vegard's shield failed now, it would be up to Bård to intercept every blade. That could be bad if Bård's mark had a power limit as well.

He turned back towards the fight and yelped with surprise as something heavy and covered with fur slammed into his chest, knocking him backward onto the pavement. As he fell, he saw Vegard turn towards him and reach out, shiny bubble flickering into existence and blossoming out from his hand. Not fast enough, though, and a tight group of the monster's discs skimmed toward Bård's face. His mark fired on and destroyed three of them but one got through, barely brushing Bård's face harmlessly as it flew past. If he hadn't been knocked over he'd have been decapitated. He was so shocked by the realization that time normalized and the furry creature, which must have weighed at least 15 kilos, scrabbled to right itself, digging its claws into Bård's chest. _Æsj._ A cat. He shoved the thing to the side and then howled in agony as another one of the spinning blades, ricocheting from behind him, pinned him to the pavement, protruding grotesquely from his left upper chest. He howled in pain. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

And then the street exploded.

Bård blinked in amazement as Vegard flew towards him, propelled by the explosion's pressure wave, a wall of fire and debris close behind, blotting out the light. And then Vegard was on top of him.

 _B: Is this your hand? I can't see._  
_V: Ja, it's me. Jesus Christ, I saw it hit you._  
_B: I can't feel my arm._  
_V: Don't move. You're hurt._  
_B: I can't breathe. Are we dead?_  
_V: Nei. Stay with me. Be still. Save your oxygen._  
_B: Save my oxygen? I can't breathe!_  
_V: The building is falling on us. We might get buried._  
_B: It hurts._  
_V: Hysj... let me concentrate._  
_B: I can't breathe. Fy faen._  
_V: Stay in my head. I'm right here._  
_B: I'm dying. I'm finally dying._  
_V: Not if I can help it._  
_B: I can't breathe._  
_V: Hold on to me. Stay with me._  
_B: I'm dying. I can't..._  
_V: You can. Bård? Are you listening?_  
_V: Bård?_  
_V: Bård!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would definitely be a good time to read Routcliffe's "Superboy". Otherwise the next chapter will give a spoiler that will ruin that story.
> 
> Also, the "Mister" of the title is the name of the cat that knocked Bård over. Mister is Harry Dresden's giant tomcat. If you don't know Harry Dresden then run, don't walk, to your local bookshop and pick up the first Dresden novel, "Storm Front" by Jim Butcher. You won't be sorry. :-)


	10. Selfies in the Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bård meets a fan. Vegard is unimpressed with hospital decor. Calle runs an errand.

As far as Calle could tell, several things had happened at once. An enormous alley cat emerged from the parking garage and barreled into Bård, flinging him backwards. Then an enormous sky blue garbage truck roared out of a side street and rammed into the monster, triggering an ear-shattering roar from the beast and causing it to launch more volleys of the frisbees-of-death.

The death frisbees bounced around the street too fast to follow, eventually burying themselves in brick or cement or parked cars like circular saw blades. Calle wasn't sure how many frisbees came at them, but Vegard's bubble flashed over and over, the frisbees pinging off of its surface only to bounce around more and occasionally back at them. With each blow the opaque silver of Vegard's shield looked more and more like blue glass. Even the sound of the ricochets sounded less metallic and more wooden.

Calle was wondering whether Vegard's shield would protect them long enough to get to cover when he heard Bård scream. He turned to see Bård impaled by one of the blades; a wound that was surely mortal. But he didn't have time to be horrified, because that's when the entire world exploded. A pressure wave slammed into all of them, followed by a wall of stone and brick and glass. The debris piled up around and on Vegard's little bubble and finally collapsed it, burying them all underneath.

Now Calle lay on his stomach, his hands over his head, stunned. The wood and brick that had lain on him fell to his sides as he shakily pushed himself up, coughing up dust and grit. A moment later a firm hand grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the wreckage.

“Hey. You okay?”

Calle nodded and shook the dust off of his shirt. He looked up to find a tall rangy man about his own age looking down at him with concern. The stranger had a mop of dark hair and wore a long, well worn black leather duster. That seemed a little odd, in this weather. Behind him a second tall dark-haired man in a white, form-fitting T-shirt was helping Romeo to his feet. Neil, the other bodyguard, was lying twisted on the ground like a ragdoll only a few feet from where Calle stood. He was out cold, which was good because his leg was definitely broken. It looked like he'd taken the brunt of the blast for Calle. Romeo looked Calle up and down carefully and called out, "You okay, Mister Larsen?" 

Calle gave him the thumbs up.

"Don't move.  I'm calling for help."  Romeo pulled out his phone and made a call, standing over his companion and searching their surroundings. 

Calle looked up at the stranger and said in English, “Yes, thank you, yes. I’m okay, I think.”

“Glad to hear it. Thomas said there were two others?”

“Yes, my friends are under there.” Calle turned and gasped at the wreckage. He and the fallen bodyguard had been incredibly lucky; most of it had missed them. And landed on his friends. He called out, “Vegard? Bård?"

No answer.

Romeo called out, "That rubble looks unstable; don't move it."

The stranger said, “Might be too late if we wait for help.” He bent and started pulling away the bricks. “I’m Harry Dresden.” He pointed to the second man. “That's Thomas. Let’s get this cleared off of them.”

Thomas glanced around again but bent to help them. He was remarkably handsome, even by Norwegian standards, and his lean athletic frame showed defined muscles through the fabric of his white T-shirt. Even so, he was far stronger than he appeared. He pulled a large chunk of brick wall that must have weighed a hundred kilos off to the side with one hand.

They made good progress clearing the debris with the help of bystanders that crept out from the ruined shops. By the time they uncovered Vegard and Bård the street was full of police cars and ambulances. And they’d been joined by several police officers, what looked like two more FBI agents and a pair of paramedics. Another pair was working on Neil the bodyguard.

The brothers were lying underneath a twisted metal door that had protected them from much of the rubble. As they gently pulled the door away they found Vegard curled over Bård and the enormous grey cat.  They were all lying in a frighteningly wide pool of blood, and since Vegard didn’t respond initially to Calle’s voice, he feared the worst until one of the paramedics found Vegard's pulse. The two checked his blood pressure and pulse and began putting a cervical collar on Vegard.

That seemed to wake him up.  Vegard squinted at the medics and said sleepily, “No, I’m fine. Just really tired.”

The medic said, “You might have a concussion, sir. Please lie still so we can protect your spine.”

“No, thank you. My magic bubble saved me from the bricks. I’m okay.”

Harry and his friend glanced at each other.

Vegard blinked his eyes heavily and groaned, “Bård's hurt. I tried to help him.” Vegard tried to shrug off the medics, but he was too weak to fight them. They cut away his blood soaked shirt, searching for a wound. A second set of paramedics began working on Bård as the first two gently guided Vegard onto a gurney, complete with a backboard, despite his continued protests.

Calle could see Bård properly now, although he had to force himself to look.  Bård was surely dead;  the blade had cut him right through the chest. Bård’s hair, chest, left face, left arm and the pavement underneath him were soaked in blood, dirt and broken glass. Calle could just see Mothra's mark on his Bård's chest, glowing faintly through the coating of blood and debris.

The paramedics tending to Bård drew back with surprise when he said dryly in English, “Vegard. You need to lose weight. You were squashing me.”

Vegard called out sleepily, _“Unnskyld!”_

Bård made a face and said with annoyance, _"Fy faen_ , there's a cat on me."

Curled up at his side was the enormous grey grizzled old tomcat, missing most of its tail and a chunk of one ear. Calle thought it must weigh at least 15 kilos and its fur was matted with Bård's blood.  Calle thought it might be dead, but it yawned, stood, and casually padded over to Harry. It rubbed itself violently against his leg, knocking Harry off balance and smearing Bård's blood on Harry’s trousers. Harry bent down to scratch its chin and looked up curiously at Bård.

As they pulled away Bård's shirt one of the medics muttered, “Where’s the injury?” Like his brother, Bård objected strenuously to their attentions but without success.

The medic looked up at Calle. “Was there someone else hurt here?”

“Why do you ask?”

“All this blood. But we don't see a wound.”

Harry cleared his throat. “The blood might have been from the other supernatural critter we were chasing. The one that took out this part of the building. It’s gone now, we should actually go after it.” He produced an ID card and showed it to one of the police officers standing over the group.

“Harry Dresden, huh? My sister was at Navy Pier when you pulled that stunt with the ferris wheel there last year. Saved her life. Thanks.”

“My pleasure to help."

"One of the witnesses said there was a big garbage monster? Did you see that?"

"We got it. It's just ectoplasm now." Harry pointed to where the monster had been, the spot now occupied by a heap of clear bubbling goo dripping off of the smashed front of the blue garbage truck. A man in blue overalls was standing next to the truck and talking with a police officer. He looked angry and was pointing at Thomas.

"Good job. What happened with the truck?"

Harry glanced at Thomas and said, "It... drove into the monster."

Thomas glanced at the truck driver and cleared his throat. "Yes. It did. That driver over there is a hero."

"I see."

Harry nodded. "He should really get a medal or something."

The officer eyed him for a moment and then said, "No need for you to hang around then. Thanks for your help."

Harry let out a relieved breath. "Thanks. What hospital will these folks go to?”

One of the medics said, “We’ll take these men over to Northwestern.”

“Thanks.”

Harry nodded to Calle with a cheery "See you again soon!" and he and Thomas moved off, walking briskly down the street and out of sight. Away from the garbage truck and its driver.

Calle stared after them for a moment and then turned to ask the police officer what he should do next. But the officer had disappeared into the crowd. Romeo came up beside Calle and crossed his massive arms over his chest, watching the proceedings. So Calle crossed his arms as well, fully aware he looked like a puny scarecrow next to Romeo's muscle-bound physique.  But he was glad for the company.    They watched the medics trundle the injured bodyguard and the brothers into three waiting ambulances. Vegard had slipped into unconsciousness, but Bård was cheery enough. He called out, “Carl Fredrik!  Bring me a change of clothes. These jeans are ruined."

“I saw what happened. Why aren't you dead?”

“Magic. _Ha det.”_ As the medic closed the ambulance door, Bård gave Calle a smile of encouragement. The dried blood on his face cracked with the smile. Calle shuddered. The sight reminded him of Tokyo.

 

* * *

 

Vegard squinted at the light the doctor was shining into his eyes. He said, _“Jeg føler meg ok."_

The doctor, a petite, attractive East Asian woman in her forties raised a skeptical brow. “Pardon me?"

Vegard switched to English. "I'm sorry. I feel okay."

_"Hmph._ Your blood glucose level is a little low.”

“Okay?”

“This ever happen before?”

Vegard blinked at her with his most innocent face. “No, ma'am.”

“Did you eat today?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Hmph." She put her penlight into the pocket of her white coat. Across the left breast the coat read, "Sayuri Hendricksen, MD, Emergency Department". She asked, "You had a Norwegian passport on you when you came in."

"Yes are you from Norway?  Hendricksen?"

"Husband is."

"Ah."

"Are you going back to Norway soon?”

“In two days.”

_“Hmph._ I’m going to run a number of tests on you. You might have some underlying infection or hormonal problem.”

“Okay?”

_“Hmph.”_ She turned on her heel and pushed the privacy curtain out of the way, leaving the little room.

Vegard blinked around in confusion. He was out of his clothes, and was only wearing a red polka-dotted patient gown that barely covered him. He didn't remember getting undressed but he was definitely naked under the gown. He'd been covered by some crisp white sheets and a cotton blanket, but he was still cold. There were smudges of rust on his arms and under his nails; it looked like someone had smeared it onto his skin with a sponge or washrag. He sniffed his forearm and wrinkled his nose. Blood. So, not smeared on. Someone had cleaned him off. Well. Blood. Mostly Bård's probably. He rubbed his eyes blearily and looked around. No Bård. He called out, "Bård?!" and strained to hear his brother. Nothing. He thought it was probably stupid to yell. He was too tired to try to look for Bård.  He didn't know where he was.  That made everything harder.  And he was cold. Would the doctor bring him a blanket if he asked? Or socks?  Socks were really good for staying warm.  Not as good as a scarf.

He looked around. No sign of his clothes. Or socks. Or a scarf.  The room was painted a warm hideous beige, and a long counter and a sink ran along one wall over which ugly beige cupboards were hung. Was it so difficult to paint a room a pleasant color?  Past the foot of his bed, a sea green curtain (why green and not the awful beige?) hung along the wall into which the doctor had just disappeared, a wall that seemed to be mostly glass. Or a large sliding glass door. Through the gap in the curtain he could see a large central work area for doctors and nurses.

He had an IV in his rusty, itchy forearm, and he glanced behind him to see a heart monitor flashing steadily. He was definitely in a hospital. Since Tokyo, he hated hospitals. So where was Bård? He called out again, "Bård?"

A voice answered _, "Kommer, Vegard."_

A moment later Bård appeared and pulled the privacy curtain closed behind him. His hair was wet and slicked back. He was wearing a set of clean blue scrubs and some fluffy blue socks. “Hei, Vegard.”

“Hei, Bård. Where were you?"

"Room next door."

"You look... clean.”

Bård continued in Norwegian. “It happens that my nurse recognized me. She managed to set off a chain reaction of _What Does the Fox Say?_ in the people working nearby. Didn't you hear?”

“I was asleep. What time is it?"

"It's about ten pm. They discharged me, but my nurse said you were still getting tests. So she sneaked me over to get a shower. I took off my clothes and we took a selfie in the bathroom. She said it made her day.”

“Now your penis will be on Instagram, Bård.”

“My penis was not photographed, Vegard.”

"Where did you get the socks?"

"Nurse.  You want some?"

_“Ja._  You look pale.”

_“Ja._ We need to talk about that.” Bård turned and reached through the curtains to pull the sliding glass door shut behind him.

“Do we?”

Bård pulled up his shirt. “I was beginning to think perhaps I’d misremembered it except for this.” He drew his fingertip along a fresh, very thin pink scar that ran from under his left armpit and up to his left collarbone. He turned to trace it back over his shoulder down his left scapula.

Vegard swallowed hard.  He was so sleepy. “I'm glad that worked.”

Bård lowered his shirt and grinned at his brother. He drew close and held out his hand.

Vegard grimaced. "Why are you so happy?"

"Give me your hand." Bård's smile softened to something more affectionate. That was odd.

"Why?"

"I want to talk privately about this."

Vegard asked suspiciously, “What is there to talk about?"

Bård frowned. "My arm was cut off and you fixed it somehow?"

"You're welcome."

_"Takk._ I want to know how you did it."

It was Vegard's turn to frown. "What do you mean?  You already know, don't you?"

Bård dropped his hand. “ _Hæ?_ How would I know?”

“I thought you knew everything."

"How could I?"

"You’ve been able to read my mind since Tokyo even without touching me.”

Bård's mouth dropped open. He closed it abruptly. "I haven't."

"You knew about the surprise party. You knew about me getting Elvis Costello."

"That wasn't telepathy."

"You knew about the apron I made Sif just two weeks ago!"

Bård laughed. “I honestly haven’t been reading your mind. You’re just so incredibly predictable."

"Am I?"

"You really thought I was reading your mind?" Bård clapped his hands together with pleasure. _"Jeg elsker det!_  You're so gullible!”

Vegard blinked at Bård. He felt confused and drunk. Did Bård really not know? How could he possibly not know? “Okay?”

“And even if I could read your mind against your will I wouldn’t bother. It’s far faster to ask you yes or no questions. No one has a more convoluted and boring internal dialogue than you.”

“I’m sure there must be someone more boring.”

_“Nei,_ you’re the master.”

“Okay.”

Bård held Vegard’s gaze and held out his hand.  "Come on then."

Vegard rolled his eyes and held out his hand unsteadily. “Okay, go.”

Bård pulled his brother's hand into his and let down the barrier between their minds. He immediately began hammering Vegard with questions.

V: _Oi oi oi oi…_ you really have been holding back. _Jesus Christ._ This is disorienting.  
B: _Ja ok._ So tell me how you did it.  
V: Give me a second to adjust.  
B: What's the problem? You synced up with me in the street.  
V: That was different. You weren't like this.  
B: Like what?  
V: There you needed me. Now you're just pushing your way in.  
B: How did you reattach my arm? Show me.  
V: Give me a second. I'm still confused.  
B: You put my arm. Back on.  
V: Okay, okay.  
B: I felt it tear away but it's still here.  
V: It wasn’t torn, you fell back and it was cut off by one of those circular blades.  
B: Whatever. My arm was detached from my body. You fixed it and I’m not dead from blood loss. And my arm works. They said my blood count was a little low but that's all. This scar goes through my ribcage, Vegard.  
V: It was a clean cut.  
B: The nurse thought it must have cut through a big artery, Vegard.  
V: The blade started melting away and I just closed everything up right behind.  
B: I should be dead, Vegard.  
V. I just ... made it normal.  
B: How did you do it?  
V: Mothra’s mark.  
B: _Fy faen,_ it wasn’t the mark. How long have you had that much power?  
V: What do you mean?  
B: How long?  
V: How long? You really don't read my mind?  
B: Of course not. My arm works. My fingers. Everything feels normal.  
V: That's good.  
B: Tell me. Then I’ll tell you.  
V: Tell me what?  
B: How long I've been able to do things on my own.  
V: Oh that. I saw you zap a mosquito a few weeks after we got back from Tokyo. And then all that idiot business with the explosions on set.  
B: Why didn’t you say anything?  
V: I thought you knew. I thought you could read my mind.  
B: What about that shield you threw up in that courtroom?  
V: That was the mark.  
B: So how long?  
V: How long what?  
B: Since you could control it on your own?  
V: Like you. Since Tokyo. Only a little bit. When I started I couldn’t even heal a fly.  
B: I can’t heal anything. I can only make things explode or catch fire or be electrocuted.  
V: I haven’t tried to make things explode.  
B: Can you heal any injury? What about diseases?  
V: The fresher the injury the easier it is to fix. I don't know about diseases. I can't do anything about my eczema. I've tried.  
B: _Herregud I_ wish you’d told me. I thought I was the only one. I thought maybe Bob was still inside me. All this time I thought I was still under Bob's spell.  
V: Is that why you've been so distant?  
B: Distant? What sort of question is that?  
V: You haven't wanted to sync.  
B: I swear you act more like a wife than Maria.  
V: And you act more like a child than Mads.  
B: I can't believe you didn't tell me.  
V: I did!  
B: _Jesus_ , I would have had you try to fix my sciatica.  
V: You wouldn't let me!  
B: Let you? You should have offered!  
V: I did. Many, many, many times. You always tell me to shut up.  
B _: Oi oi oi oi._ Sounds like me.  
V: I did work on your sciatica anyway. I thought you said it was a little better?  
B: That was you?  
V: That was me. I did tell you.  
B: _Arigato?_  
V: _Tondemo arimasen._ How big are the explosions you can do? Did you blow up that building that fell on us?  
B: _Nei,_ of course not. What a stupid question.  
V: Then how big?  
B: I went to a junkyard and blew up a car.  
V: Why?  
B: Why? Why not?  
V: Okay.  
B: Is this why you've been studying anatomy books?  
V: _Ja,_ but I don't think knowing anatomy actually helps. I just reach out with my mind and make things the way they are supposed to be. I brought a bird back from the dead once.  
B: What a waste of effort.  
V: Going to junkyards to make cars explode for no reason is also a waste of effort.  
B: True.  
V: Maybe you don't know you are reading my mind. That's how you knew about the party.  
B: Don't be absurd; you're just a terrible liar.  
V: I am not.  
B: _Vent litt,_ someone’s coming.

Bård pulled away suddenly and Vegard couldn't help crying out. He felt as if Bård had reached down his throat and yanked his stomach out through his mouth. He took some slow breaths to balance himself.

They’d linked up now and then just to sync to amuse interviewers or fans, or give each other quick messages, but those hookups had felt no more personal than a text message. Even doing Sif's little light show hadn't taken more than a casual connection. Just now this link had been far more solid and infinitely more invasive. And comforting. He resented that Bård had been withholding that comfort from him. Especially as they’d both still been suffering from terrible nightmares. _Jesus Christ_ , why hadn't Bård reached out like this when he had nightmares? He didn't understand.

Vegard frowned. _Fy faen,_ he felt drunk. He hoped he didn't have brain damage. He was the only sensible one in the group.  He pushed a hand through his hair and grimaced in pain. It was hardened with Bård’s dried blood.

He'd just disentangled his fingers when someone knocked on the glass and asked "Sirs?" A moment later Romeo pushed his way past the curtains. He had his mirrored sunglasses pushed up on his forehead, and had changed into a fresh black T-shirt and black jeans.

Bård gave Romeo a big smile and stood to high five him. "Romeo, _mah brotha_ from _anotha motha."_

Romeo smiled but rolled his eyes. "Don't do that."

Bård's grin widened. "How is Neil feeling now?"

Romeo met eyes with Vegard. "He's gonna be okay."

Bård turned to Vegard. "Neil has a broken leg. Luckily you saved him from the worst of everything."

Vegard nodded to Romeo. "I'm sorry I didn't do better. Where is he, maybe I can help?"

Romeo smiled, his white teeth blinding against his dark chocolate skin. "You did plenty, thank you, sir. You rest up and we can visit him later if you like. And I'm sorry to bother you, but I came in because there’s a man here to see you. He was one of the men who helped dig you out. His credentials check out. Shall I let him through, sir?”

Vegard nodded blearily. "Stop calling me sir."

"Very well, _sir._ " Romeo pulled aside the curtain. "Please come in."

A very tall, rangy man with tousled short black hair and dark eyes stepped into the space, his black leather duster swirling around his long legs. He gave the brothers a friendly nod. "Gentlemen? I'm Harry Dresden. I hear you need my help.”


	11. Harry Dresden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ylvis meets Dresden. Vegard has a headache. Calle buys shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished my grading and submitted my final report to my department! So here's a nice long long chapter. I hope you like it! Also, if you haven't read any of the Harry Dresden books (Why haven't you? Go do that now!) I warn you there are some significant spoilers in this chapter. I don't think any of them are bad enough to ruin your enjoyment of the Dresden series (which you should definitely be reading now instead of my story), but they're necessary for aspects of my story to make sense; in fact, similarities between Dresden and Ylvis's situation were what inspired me. If you're already a Dresden fan, this story would take place after the events of the 2014 Dresden novel "Skin Game". You've been warned!

[](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/Ch11_HarryDresden_zpsirxmrlwt.jpg.html)

Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, Wizard of the White Council, Grey Warden Regional Commander, Winter Court Knight and Lord Provider of Pizza to the Wyldfae Pixies, was having a bad day. It had started out well enough; he’d taken his pet cat "Mister" to the vet to get his rabies vaccination first thing this morning. His half-brother Thomas had shown up at the vet’s office with a bag of Stan’s donuts and a request to help out a friend who had “lost their pet.” A missing pet would be quick and easy enough to deal with, and his answering service said the FBI had referred a case.

Cases from the FBI were usually interesting and not particularly dangerous, mostly missing persons or objects. Harry assumed the FBI kept the really sensitive cases secret. He still hadn’t met the FBI's internal practitioner, but he assumed he or she was a freaking badass.

So he’d been in a good mood this morning, but the “lost pet” turned out to be a twelve-foot python that slithered into an open drain after accidentally swallowing the owner’s wedding rings. Tracking the snake led to the sewers and the sewer demon that had eaten it for breakfast. Typical. But killing the sewer demon had led to civilians getting injured and major property damage and that pissed Harry off. A wedding ring was surely not worth any of that.

Not that he thought he'd ever know. He couldn't risk a wife. Because of him, people he cared about got hurt. Hurt bad. Or killed.  Even Mister was on his tenth or eleventh cat life.  And today bystanders had gotten hurt, dammit.  That made him angry.  Mostly at himself.

After the fight with the demon on the street today, and after the ambulances had taken the injured men from the scene, Harry and Thomas were forced to hide in a nearby FedEx-Kinkos until the Department of Streets and Sanitation worker drove the battered blue garbage truck away. Then they spent twenty minutes gingerly pawing through the "stomach" contents and ectoplasm left behind when the sewer demon exploded to find the wretched wedding rings. Harry spent a full ten minutes washing his hands in the damaged Starbuck's Coffee's bathroom before the smell of sewage faded to a tolerable level. Blech. Also, yuck.

Harry sent Thomas off to return the “friend” her belongings, to take Mister home and to shower and change.  Then he headed over to Northwestern Hospital’s Emergency Department to see the brothers that had been caught in the explosion. While they'd dug them out back on the street, their friend had confirmed they were also the new clients referred by the feds. Just his luck.

The friend also had said the brothers were from Norway. Harry figured he might wave his new client fee, considering all the help Odin had given him on his last case. Besides, the men had been caught in the sewer demon blast and that was on him.  He'd been distracted by worry for Thomas when he'd jumped out of that garbage truck when it rammed the demon. Thomas could take care of himself.   And in hindsight he should have looked around more carefully for bystanders before throwing a fire spell into the methane fog that always surrounded the disgusting things. In fact, he should have _frozen_ the thing, for crying out loud.  He had to stop being so scared to use ice spells.  It had been a careless, stupid, novice mistake.  

So here he was in Northwestern Memorial's swanky Emergency Department. He eyed the two Norwegians. They were obviously brothers or maybe even twins. It occurred to him they might not be human; some supernatural folk had trouble inventing convincing human disguises and copied one another. He’d once caught out a half-dozen shapeshifters because their disguises made them look like the Osmond family.

Thomas said he'd seen these two using a magic shield, and they'd both stunk of healing magic when they'd uncovered them under the rubble back on the street. He really hoped they were humans. It was just so much easier to deal with humans. The worst they could do was kill you.

Harry turned and slid the glass door shut behind him, pulling the curtain back across the glass for privacy, just in case things went sour. He held out his hand to Bård. "You're brothers, I hope?”

Bård leaned forward to shake Harry's hand. “I’m Bård Ylvisåker and this is my brother Vegard.”

Harry shook Vegard’s hand in turn. Bård was a little less pale than he'd been back on the street, and he seemed intact and alert. Vegard looked uninjured but exhausted. Healing magic wasn't easy, so Harry guessed Vegard was the one that had done the aforementioned healing. At least both men's skin felt human. And the right temperature.

Harry asked, “You're from Norway?"

"Yes."

"I feel I know your names from somewhere.”

Bård glanced at his brother and answered, “People in the United States know us because we made a YouTube music video about a fox or because we killed the Midgard Serpent near Tokyo during the Titan attacks.”

Harry folded his arms and gave them his friendliest smile. “You've got range.  I don’t know from YouTube; I don't get along well with the internet. But yeah I've heard of you. So your day job is music?"

"Mostly comedy."

"Like stand-up?"

"We have a talk show. With comedy. In Norway."

Harry nodded to himself with satisfaction.  Bård had looked tense as hell when he'd come in. Getting people to talk about themselves was the best way to break the ice. And to find out what's going on. Up yours, Doctor Phil.  He said, "That's a great way to make a living. I heard Norway got hit pretty hard last year. Then, I suppose everyone needs a laugh these days."

Bård shrugged. "We do our best."

"You know, a lot of people think the Midgard Serpent was the battle that won that war. If I'd known you were coming I'd have thrown you a parade.  Or at least baked a cake."

"That would have been embarrassing."

Harry smiled. "The awkward embarrassment is the whole fun of parades.  That and the clown cars.  You two wrote a book, right?"

"Yes."

"My old apprentice would not shut up about that book. She said you fought with Godzilla. That must have been really cool."

“Mostly with the Mothra.”

“Oh, right. The big butterflies from space. Still very cool.”

Vegard mumbled in Norwegian, "Not butterflies. Moths."

Bård asked Harry, “What exactly happened today? What was that monster?”

"Sewer demon.”

“Are there many demons like that in this city?”

Harry shrugged. “Not usually, but a lot more since the Titan attacks. Amateur practitioners have been looking up spells on the internet and summoning monsters they can't control. That particular sewer demon ate something I disagreed with."

“Okay?”

"It's a long story."  Harry turned his attention to Vegard. "So, how are you feeling?"

Vegard glanced at Bård but said in English, "I am follering... fellering... a little..."

"Woozy?"

Vegard nodded and pointed at Harry. "I am woozing."

Harry smiled. "We saw some of what you two did. Thomas said you made an impressive magic barrier. Real shiny.”

Vegard blinked slowly at him but asked, "Where is the grey cat?"

“Thomas took the cat home.”

“If that cat had not striked... Bård then the... uh... _sirkulær_?"

Bård sighed with exasperation. "Circular. Sorry, he's usually marginally better than this with English."

"Not a problem. My Latin goes down the drain after a fight."

Vegard continued, "...the _circular_ blade would have cut him in two. The cat saved his life.”

“So were you the one that was injured? There was a lot of blood.”

Bård held up a hand. "Before we talk about this, how do we know you're who you say you are?"

Harry produced his ID card and handed it over. He was always stoked to show people his Chicago Police Department Special Investigations Consultant card; it had helped him get through many a locked door in the past. Bård looked at it closely and handed it to Vegard. Vegard turned the card over in his hands several times and shrugged. “Okay?”

Harry asked, "Why don't you start by telling me what you were coming to see me about? Are you missing someone or something? Or is it all hush-hush? I know a place we can go that's safe from prying ears. It's open late and serves fantastic steak sandwiches."

Vegard said groggily, "The doctor wants to do more tests. She is very, very grumpy."

"Hm.” Harry looked Vegard up and down. His curling black hair was sticking out wildly in all directions, and his skin was streaked with dirt and blood. Otherwise he looked intact. No bruises or scrapes. Harry could make out the edges of what was certainly a protective ward past Vegard's unsnapped patient gown. And Bård had a matching ward on his upper right chest peeking out from the V-neck of his scrubs. Vegard’s ward was almost totally discharged. Bård’s wasn’t. Interesting.

Harry said, “Grumpy doctor, huh?  I wouldn't take it personally. So. How what can I do for you two gentlemen?"

Bård ventured, "We wanted to see you because the FBI said you might be able to give us advice. We’ve been getting attacked because of what happened in Japan. And we're worried about a cult that's unhappy with us."

"Advice, huh?" Harry pulled his blasting rod out of its hiding spot in his coat so he could sit and dragged a plastic chair away from the wall. He sat. "What sort of cult?"

"Satan worship."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Since the Titan attacks, Satan's more popular than Justin Bieber.”

Vegard, muttered, " _Skinnfrakken_ , Bård."

Harry asked, "I'm sorry?"

Bård said, "Vegard thinks it is strange you are wearing a leather coat in the summer."

"This one comes standard with air conditioning." Harry looked Bård up and down. Odd that they commented on the coat but not the rod. "So are you new to magic?"

Bård moved closer to Vegard's stretcher and casually leaned his hand on the side rail, hovering over his brother's. "Why?"

"You know what this is?"  Harry held up the rod so the myriad of carved runes and sigils were highlighted in the fluorescent lights.

"It's nice.  Walking pole?"

"It's a magic rod.  Sort of a mini-staff."

"A staff is really a thing that magicians use?"

"Not magicians.  But wizards, yeah.  Never seen one before?"

"Only in movies. I thought a wizard's staff was just a fantasy weapon."

As Bård inched closer to his brother Harry felt power flickering from Vegard's direction. He glanced at the monitor above Vegard. The display hadn't gone out. But the closer the two got the more power he could feel. They were splashing it all over the room which meant these two had no fine control over the magic they were producing. And Bård seemed legitimately wary of Harry's staff. Also interesting.

Harry held up his hand and said calmly, "Stones and stars, I'm not trying to intimidate you. I’m asking because I only wanted to know if you've had magical training in the past. Can I take a closer look at those wards you've got? Or at least the one that made the shield?"

"Wards?"

"The marks... the tattoos on your chests. I saw them back in the street when they put you on the gurneys."

Vegard piped up in English. "His mark didn't do it. Mine did." He pulled his patient gown clumsily aside.

Harry squinted at the ward. The main design was a symbol he didn’t recognize, but there were the shadows of more conventional glyphs within and around the pattern. It looked like the type of spell Harry used for making shields and defensive weapons for himself. The spell soaked up tiny bits of kinetic energy as the wearer moved throughout the day, storing up the power for when he’d need it. A proper ward on living skin wasn’t an easy enchantment to perform, but these were definitely proper wards. These two had just taken a hell of a beating but were basically fine. Wards that strong were merlin-level spells. Extremely interesting.

But these two were worried about a satanic cult? In the magical world, most satanic cults were just a bunch of existentialists that liked wearing black robes. Nothing particularly dangerous to true magic-users. And as far as Harry had heard, Lucifer wasn't particularly interested in meddling in human affairs these days; he left that to the other fallen angels.

Harry felt convinced these two were total novices and that was a problem. They couldn't be that sloppy with that much power. Not for long, anyway.

He glanced up at Bård. "You make those wards, those marks yourself?"

Bård shook his head. "Blue Mothra put them on us. She said they'd protect us."

"Do they?"

"Yes.  But she said they'd wear off with time, and so would our abilities. But they haven't."

Vegard held up a finger. "We can not sync."

"Sync?"

Bård shrugged. "We used to be able to read each other's thoughts from a distance.  Synchronize.  Work like one person."

Harry let out a long breath. "That's impressive, actually. You know, even those types of wards are difficult to pull off by the most powerful wizards. You know, Gandalf-class magic. Scary."

"She wasn't a wizard. She said she is an Earth Spirit, whatever that is."

"She meant she's a force of nature. Earth Spirits are insanely powerful. They get their power from the energy of matter itself, not just magical will. Think of how big the Earth is; it's mostly molten metal.   The Sun and Stars are even more energy packed."

Vegard said abruptly in English, "The sun's temperature at its core is over 13 million degrees."

Bård deadpanned, "Celsius."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it's a lot of power. So you were just minding your own business and the giant space butterfly turned you into practitioners?"

Vegard protested, "Not a butterfly. A moth!"

Bård said, "We never did any magic before Mothra recruited us. She picked us because we were from Norway and could sing, that’s all."

"I doubt that. You must have had some latent ability. On the other hand, if she wanted Northern Europeans for the job maybe she chose you based on your genetics. Or she might have just wanted twins and no identical twins were available. I expect you two are fraternal?"

"We aren't twins."

"Really? You look just alike."

Bård grimaced. "Do you think so?"

"Are you kidding? You're like salt and pepper shakers."

Vegard offered haltingly, "I am the older brother. I am one hundred percent in charge."

Harry studied Bård. "So his ward makes shields. What does your ward do?"

"Lightning, mostly."

"I see." Harry sighed. If they were telling the truth then Mothra hadn't done them a favor by granting them so much magical ability without an instruction manual. You don't give a flame-thrower to a toddler. Harry asked, "You two haven't ever killed anybody with magic, have you? Other than the colossal sea snake, I mean."

Bård hesitated and Harry went still. If they'd killed someone with magic, and the other Grey Wardens found out, these men would be in mortal danger. Or maybe these two were on the FBI’s “please dispose” list. He'd be pissed off if the FBI sent him these two because they thought he could neutralize them more quietly than they could. Harry never did anything quietly. And he was a consultant, not the FBI's errand boy, thank you very much. Either way it was trouble.

Vegard was holding his head and muttering to himself. But Bård was on high alert, staring back at Harry with wide blue eyes.

The moment stretched.

Harry rose slowly and backed up against the counter in the little room. With his black coat and towering height he knew he looked intimidating. And any time a fight was imminent the Winter demon that hitched along with Harry these days flexed its muscles. The little room became palpably colder. But this was a hospital. Harry wasn’t going to hurt anyone here if he could help it and he sure didn't want to throw magic around machines that were keeping sick people alive. Still…

Harry said soberly, "You need to tell me. Have you killed or hurt anyone intentionally with magic?"

"Yes."

Harry appreciated the honesty; it meant that either Bård was completely clueless or a total psychopath. "Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was it premeditated or self-defense? Or were you compelled to do it? Possessed?"

Vegard said weakly, "Not our fault!"

Bård cleared his throat uneasily. "Self-defense and possessed."

Harry mulled that over and decided to take a look at the brothers with his Wizard’s Sight. It would let him see their true essence and give him a better idea of the nature of their magic. He hoped there wouldn’t be anything to see that would give him nightmares. And he really hoped they were humans.

He opened up his Sight and winced as he heard the heart monitor over Vegard's head beep in distress. Electronics really hated magic. Couldn't be helped. He studied the two men, their true selves revealed.

Both men wore Viking chain mail. Vegard's essence stood firm and steady in brilliant silver. He held an oversized round silver shield in one hand and a long sword in the other. In the vision Vegard’s dark curls were streaked with grey and he worked his grizzled jaw with righteous determination. He didn't have a rider. So not possessed. Good. But there was hazy blue light spilling away from his body.  Leaking.  Not so good.

Bård was another matter. Although he wore gleaming, golden armor, he stood with his arms tightly folded. The hilts of two glittering short swords protruded from sheaths at his side, both glowing with yellow power. But a dark swath wound over him from head to toe. It looked as though an enormous snake, now gone, had coiled up his legs and around his body, burning him where they’d touched, leaving a smoking trail behind. The right side of Bård’s face was also burned away, exposing the bone of his jaw and temple. Where Vegard’s hair had been streaked with grey, Bård’s was shot through with snow white. But his kit was polished to a mirror shine and he seemed as determined as his brother. He didn't have a rider either.  He was not leaking magic.

Harry watched Bård's essence reach out to touch Vegard's and a sparkling light surrounded them and coalesced into a defined, pulsing barrier.  The magic leakage stopped.  Huh. So these two were ridiculously powerful in combination, and they didn't know what the hell they were doing. So they were _two_ toddlers with oversized flamethrowers. Probably the true reason for the referral.

Harry ended the vision and realized that the brothers were holding hands in real time as well. He felt a little guilty for not giving them warning before opening his Sight. So he settled back down into his chair to give them a chance to recover. He said nonchalantly, "Hell's Bells, you scared me there. I thought maybe the FBI sent you to me specifically so I'd drag you off to be executed. Which is not a thing I do, by the way.”

"Executed?"

"Human practitioners get the death sentence for murder. Generally speaking."

Bård's expression went neutral and he asked, "What was that you just did? There was a flash of light."

Harry waved his hand. "I just used my special magic juju to give you a once over. You know, to see if you were evil. You passed the test."

"You could have just asked if we were evil."

"Sorry. Paranoia has saved my skin more than once. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Okay.  It got cold."

"I do that sometimes.  Not intentional.  Sorry."

"Okay."

Harry watched Vegard squeeze Bård's hand. Bård let out a breath and squeezed back. But when Bård pulled away, Vegard yelped and put his hands to his temples. At the same time the heart monitor sparked and went black for a moment. It powered back on. Tough little machine.  Vegard started leaking magic again. 

Bård frowned and asked, "Vegard?"

Vegard muttered, _"Hodepine. Helvete, Bård, for fort."_

Harry asked, "What's the matter?"

Bård studied his brother and said, "We can still sync when we touch. Something about breaking the contact just now gave him a headache."

"Has that happened before?

"Right before you came in."

"What about before that?"

"No."

Vegard muttered in Norwegian, "It has."

Bård answered in kind, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought you could read my mind. _Sa-tan_ , that screaming is so distracting."

Bård looked around. "What screaming?"

"The man next door with the heart attack."

"I don't hear it. Maybe we should we call the doctor?"

Vegard waved his hand, _"Nei nei nei nei_. I'm fine."

Bård frowned and translated the exchange for Harry.

Harry let out a breath. Harry had seen some paramedics bringing in a heart attack patient next door as he'd entered Vegard's room. Maybe the magic was spilling as much _into_ Vegard as out. He said, "You know, I'm getting an idea about what the problem is here. And I can see that you two have been through the grinder. You're lucky your Viking blood makes you tough as nails."

Bård, still watching his brother, grunted, "Scandinavians are not Vikings anymore. Norwegians do not murder and rape. We hate war. We're peaceful. We cooperate. We support each other."

"Glad to hear it. But I'm talking about your DNA, not your society. Old school Vikings are tough, aggressive bastards. The Valkyries are even worse. Good to have on your side. Scary as hell as opponents. You two have enough power to be just as scary as any of them. I wouldn't want to face you in a fight."

Bård shook his head and looked earnestly back at Harry. "That's the entire reason why we want your advice. We want to be left alone. We don't want to fight."

Vegard, still rubbing his temples, offered, "Also, Bård are... is... coward."

Bård's expression didn't change. "This is true. _Hva er galt med deg, Vegard?"_

Vegard answered in Norwegian. "What is wrong with me is that you pulled away too fast. It feels like my head turned inside out. And all that screaming is making it worse. I can't think."

_"Unnskyld."_

Harry asked, "What is it now?"

Bård answered, "His head still hurts."

Vegard gritted out in English, "Doctor says... blood sugar... low."

Bård did a double take. "Really? That hasn't happened in a long time."

Vegard shrugged.

Harry pushed his hands through his hair. Unbelievable. The fact these two hadn't accidentally driven themselves into a coma or blown themselves up was a complete miracle. So he said, "Listen. Bård.  Your brother there needs a meal, a good night's sleep, and a mentor that can help him block out psychic noise. And you need a magical injury specialist. And we really, _really_ need to talk. Let's get out of here and I'll buy you a late dinner."

"Dinner?"

Vegard said weakly, "I'm hungry. But doctor wants to... do more tests..."

Harry nodded. "With that ward protecting you, I'm confident you are physically fine. You're just weak from magical exertion." He turned back to Bård. "This is very important. You two are in desperate need of counseling from an expert. If it weren't for the human world having gone bonkers over the last year the Grey Wardens would have probably picked you two up long ago and stuck you in some holding cell under a mountain until someone had time to train you.  Or they would have executed you.  Actually that's more likely.  They're pretty proactive."

"Grey Wardens?"

"Wizard police. They don't like rogue, untrained practitioners. Folks like you are a danger to yourselves and everyone around you."

Bård stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"Just... don't do any magic for the time being if you can help it."

"We'll try."

Harry raised a brow and said in his best muppet voice, "Do, or do not. There is no try."

Bård stared at him for a beat and then said, "We won't do any magic unless we get attacked. We can't control what the marks... what the _wards_ do."

Harry winced. So much for his impression. "Fair enough. Listen, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere. You need me. A lot."

Harry turned, slid the glass door open and left the room. He leaned in again a moment later and said, "Seriously. Do not go anywhere."

Bård nodded. "We aren't going to leave."

"I was doing Yoda."

"I know."

"Okay." Harry disappeared again.

Bård worked his jaw, digesting what Harry had said. _Fy faen._

 

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later, Calle knocked and entered the little room, holding several plastic bags, including a big one with the word "Nike" on it. "I brought your clothes!" He hesitated and looked down at Bård, who was sitting against the wall in a plastic chair with his eyes shut. Vegard also looked asleep. _"Hallo?"_

Bård yawned and stretched without opening his eyes. _"Hei."_

"I didn't mean to interrupt a nap."

 _"Nei,_ Vegard just got some pain medication for a headache. Oh, and we almost got executed by the wizard police."

Calle hesitated for a minute and then decided Bård was joking with him. So he grinned, put his fists on his hips and said in American English, _"Wow. Well, there you go. America. Am I right? Crazy stuff."_ He waited for a response. Getting none he sighed, "I brought you some clothes from your room. I don't know what clothes belong to whom."

"It doesn't really matter. I steal his stuff all the time."

Calle said, "I stopped off to get you two new trainers. I saw yours were all bloody."

Bård smiled broadly and stood to take the bag. He peeked inside. "This was really kind of you, Calle." He looked up and nodded. " _Tusen takk_ , I mean that sincerely."

Calle shifted uncomfortably. "Consider it a _thank-you-for-not-making-me-call-your-wives-to-say-you-are-dead_ present."

Bård stepped forward and gave Calle a hug. "What color are they?"

"I assumed you wanted hot pink with flowers. But I got you black because I hate you."

_"Takk."_

Vegard croaked sleepily, "I would like please to wash my hair and wear pants."

Calle broke the hug and frowned at Vegard. "Is he okay?"

 _"Ja._ They gave him narcotics."

"Lucky fellow."

Bård's reply was cut off as Harry gave a preemptory knock and re-entered the room, followed closely by Doctor Hendricksen.

He nodded at Calle as the petite woman was saying, "But he's not ready to be discharged. I want to keep him here at least several more hours to monitor his blood sugar."

Harry shook his head. "He's just tired."

A deep, velvety voice from behind the curtain said with amusement, "Yes, he's fine."

The doctor turned around and let out a little gasp.

A tall dark-haired man stood in the doorway. He was spectacularly handsome, even by Scandinavian standards. His skin was luminous and pale, with shiny, dark, loose curls that hung down to his perfect, masculine shoulders. He wore an immaculate white button-down shirt that accentuated his athletic figure, a paisley grey silk tie and tailored charcoal-colored trousers. Despite his relaxed manner, he moved with the power and grace of a panther. Dark, softly curved brows framed his silver-grey eyes, and the way his lips curved up in greeting was heavy with sensual promise.

Bård glanced at his brother. Vegard was staring at the newcomer with his mouth hanging open. Bård realized his own mouth had dropped open as well, and he snapped it shut. He recognized the man; he'd been there in the street when the paramedics had taken him to the hospital. But Bård didn't remember the man being so beautiful on the street.

The newcomer smiled with blindingly white teeth at the doctor and said, “I got here as soon as I could. I’m Thomas Raith." He held out a hand. "Is there anything I can do to expedite Vegard's discharge? I could take responsibility for him, if you like."

The petite woman stammered, "How... I mean... who...?"

"He's my patient. He gets these dizzy spells all the time. He runs a little hypoglycemic."

"I... guess that would be... reasonable?" Doctor Hendricksen swayed a little, staring up at him.

"Let me look over his chart with you."

"...that would be... really nice."

Thomas led the confused doctor away, after which Harry said, "We'll get you out of here lickety split." He dug into a pocket and produced a Snickers candy bar. He handed it to Vegard. "Eat it. You'll feel better."

"Eat it?"

"Yes."

Vegard look at the candy warily. "I don't..."

Bård sighed, impatient. "Just take it, Vegard."

Harry nodded. "Eat the candy for Uncle Harry."

"Harry? Like Harry Potter?"

"No?" Harry frowned and glanced back at Bård. "They scanned his head, right? Any brain damage?"

"I don't think any more than usual."

"Are you sure?"

"Vegard, name the seven busiest airports in the United States."

Vegard responded immediately, "By city, name or code?"

"Code."

Vegard counted off on his fingers, "In order of busiest: ATL, LAX, ORD, DFW, JFK, DEN, SFO."

Bård shrugged at Harry. "He's fine."

"Did they give him some sort of sedative?"

"Some pain medicine. And he's tired. He acts stupid when he's tired or drunk."

"Ah." Harry turned back to Vegard. "Eat the Snicker's Bar. It really satisfies."

"Okay?"

Calle watched Vegard carefully unwrapping the candy and asked, " I don't suppose you brought candy for everyone?"

"Sorry. I've forgotten your name. We met at the accident?

"Yes, I'm Calle. I'm with these two."

"Ah, right. Another brother?"

"No."

"You a magic practitioner too?"

"No. I'm the sidekick."

Bård interrupted, "Was that man Thomas hypnotizing that doctor?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, sort of. More like he unleashed his sexy magical whammy on her. That's his thing. Mesmerizing. She’ll be fine."

Bård let out a breath. "That's a relief."

Calle gave Bård a sidelong glance. "Why is it a relief?"

"I was worried for a second that I was turning homosexual. From the _eye candy."_

Around a mouthful of peanuts and caramel Vegard asked, "Ithee mamp eye guhruh shekulull?"

Bård translated, "Vegard wants to know if he's a vampire and going to suck our blood."

Harry snorted. "Blood-sucking vampires aren't a common thing these days."

"So he's not a blood-sucking vampire?"

"He doesn't drink blood. Listen, you are gonna love the place I'm going to take you. Fantastic ale. Best in Chicago. You can tell me more about your troubles on the way over there."

Calle asked, "If he doesn't drink blood, what does he drink?"

"Beer, mostly."

Vegard said, "I wah viff eer fith reh."

Bård sighed. "He wants to go visit our bodyguard Neil first to fix his broken leg."

Harry raised a brow and patted down the inside of his duster. "That might make him more confused. I don't know if I have any more candy on me."

"Calle will go get him some."

Calle raised a brow. "Will I?"

"Of course. You're our sidekick."

"Right."

A young redheaded nurse entered the room and said breathlessly, "I'm supposed to discharge you. But Vegard, I just want to say I'm a big fan." She glanced at Calle and said, "Oh my god, Calle! Ohmahgodohmahgod!"

Bård smiled at her in recognition. "Hi Holly! Vegard here needs a shower before we go. And he's still a little confused. Say hello to Holly, Vegard. She helped me in the shower earlier."

Vegard waved, his mouth still full. "Herro Hah-hee."

The nurse smiled enthusiastically. "I can take him to get cleaned up!"

Bård patted his brother on the shoulder. "That sounds like a fantastic idea. Don't forget to bring a camera!"

[](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/Ch11_HarryDresden_zpsirxmrlwt.jpg.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Next up, McAnally's Pub and a call home to Sif.


	12. Broken Bones and Beer Bottles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegard fixes a bone. Later, he gets lemonade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this were a B-movie, this would be end of the part where the scientist would explain the mechanics of the whole set-up. Like Peter Graves with the grainy film about grasshoppers he shows the military in "Beginning of the End" (probably my favorite American-made B-movie ever). Except I don't have a scientist here, so you'll have to put up with Dresden's explanation. Hopefully all the exposition hasn't been boring, but for my own satisfaction I wanted to be sure I had all the details straight and explained. One more chapter and then finally a significant threat will face our heroes. So scary! :-)

[ ](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/YStW4_Ch12_McAnallysBrokenBone_zpssnsp9snr.jpg.html)

_B: So how do we fix the bone?_  
_V: First I... feel for the energy from his body... his life... force..._  
_B: His soul?_  
_V: You could call it that, I guess. Can you feel it?_  
_B: Nei._  
_V: You aren't trying._  
_B: I am._  
_V: Sync up with me; you're just... talking to me._  
_B: I don't want to get drunk like you._  
_V: You won't. I'm just distracted... by all the noise._  
_B. Fint._  
_V: Oi oi oi oi..._  
_B: You said to do it._  
_V: Nei, it's okay, I feel better. There's less noise. My brain feels clearer._  
_B: I feel worse. Fuzzy. Unfocused. What is all this?_  
_V: You aren't fuzzy. You're just expanding your proprioception._  
_B: Hæ?_  
_V: Your sense of your own boundaries. How you know where your hand is when your eyes are closed._  
_B: I feel your boundaries, but we feel puffed up._  
_V: Your brain is trying to figure out how to include the space outside your body that you can sense with your mind._  
_B: Can your brain do that?_  
_V: It's just like buying a new, bigger car and learning where the outside surface of your new car is when you park or drive through a narrow tunnel._  
_B: Okay._  
_V: So now I'm sensing all the people around us and isolating the one person we want, namely Neil._  
_B: What is that little thing?_  
_V: That is a mouse in the wall._  
_B: Æsj!_  
_V: It's only a little mouse._  
_B: Why is there a mouse in a hospital?_  
_V: There are mice everywhere. Just remember how it feels so you'll know it next time you see one. It won't notice us unless we poke at it on purpose._  
_B: Or unless it is a psychic mouse._  
_V: I haven't run into one so far._  
_B: Does this mean mice have souls?_  
_V: Don't be stupid._  
_B: That mouse. I don't know exactly where I end and the mouse begins._  
_V: Controlling the range of my senses is what I've had to practice the most._  
_B: I don't like it._  
_V: Then let go. But slowly or I'll get confused again._  
_B: Nei, I want to learn how you do this._  
_V: Okay. So, can you tell how this area feels wrong? That's the break in the bone of his leg._  
_B: How can you tell it is in the leg?_  
_V: Practice. And studying anatomy books._  
_B: I think I can see the broken part. That's so strange._  
_V: We're in luck; they already reduced the fracture. All we have to do is heal it._  
_B: How do you know about all this?_  
_V: Internet. And I've been lurking in emergency rooms. I'd rather not have anyone know about that._  
_B: Maybe you should give up entertainment and be a trauma doctor._  
_V: I can't, you need me._  
_B: ..._  
_V: So now I just nudge it a little and it starts to correct itself._  
_B: Å! That's amazing._  
_V: As it heals the process speeds up and it gets easier and easier._  
_B: Like a ball rolling down a hill._  
_V: Pretty cool, right?_  
_B: Ja, det er gull._  
_V: It feels like the natural thing to do._  
_B: I can feel the bone itself._  
_V: Ja_  
_B: What about this?_  
_V: Au! What was that?_  
_B: I poked you in the foot. With my mind. Did you feel that?_  
_V: Obviously I did. Why would you do that? I'm trying to concentrate._  
_B: To see if I could._  
_V: Helvete, Bård, just... lend me some energy and be quiet. I'm trying to work here._  
_B: Have you tried using this on Helene?_  
_V: Hæ? Nei, of course not. Unless she was hurt I wouldn't-_  
_B: You could touch her mentally like this. There._  
_V: Stop touching my foot._  
_B: But you feel it, right?_  
_V: I do. But why would I want to do that to Helene, it... oh I see._  
_B: It's an obvious thing to try._  
_V: I didn't think of it._  
_B: You are spectacularly unimaginative sometimes._  
_V: Everything doesn't have to be about sex, Bård._  
_B: The primary evolutionary imperative is to reproduce, Vegard._  
_V: Fint._  
_B: Fint._  
_V: Okay. That's it. The broken leg is fixed. He won't need the surgery now._  
_B: Kjempefløtt!_  
_V: It's impressive, right?_  
_B: It is!_  
_V: Now. Don't break the connection too fast or I'll get confused again r- Au!!! Jesus Kristus!_

* * *

It was around eleven-thirty as Harry led Calle, the brothers and Romeo to a walk-down pub with the sign "McAnally’s Pub and Grill: Accorded Neutral Territory" on the front door. Thomas had begged off, saying he had to go home. Calle was just as happy to see him leave; he didn't particularly want to get to know a sexy vampire, blood-sucking variety or not. Romeo insisted on waiting outside for the time being, as he had several calls to make.

As they descended the last few steps from the door the barman nodded at Harry. He in turn put a hand on Vegard's shoulder and called out, "The usual, Mac. And your lemonade for my friend here. He's had a rough day."

The bartender nodded once and turned away.

The bar itself was cool but not cold, and the muscles of Calle's shoulders relaxed as he looked around. He'd been worried that a wizard pub would be weird or scary. This wasn't. The room smelled of oak and peanuts and french fries, not rancid beer, or worse, magical incense.  In fact, the smell of warm bread and roasting beef wafting towards him from the grill reminded him that he hadn't eaten since lunch.

A long, crooked, wooden bar ran more or less along one side with polished stools alongside.  Stout carved wooden pillars were scattered throughout the main area along with a dozen or so wooden pub tables. The odd layout made navigating the room more work than it had to be. Maybe the pillars were there to support an unstable roof? That was a bit worrying. All of the wood in the room was well worn but gleaming, and he caught the scent of lemon and beeswax as they sat down.  Clean and welcoming. Nice.  He caught sight of himself in one of the many mirrors on the walls. He looked as tired as he felt.

Calle glanced around. This time of night he'd have thought a bar would be very busy, but only a handful of tables had laughing and chatting patrons around them. A few individuals sat at the bar, mostly eating pub food.

Bård sat down in a chair next to his brother. Vegard leaned his chin on his hand, smiling drunkenly at Calle.

Calle grunted. "Vegard's looking at me weirdly again, Pappa."

Bård rolled his eyes. "Everyone looks at you weirdly, Calle. You're weird."

The barman, a slim older man, brought them a tray of ales and one lemonade, set it down in front of them and turned away.

Calle watched him walk back to the grill. "He doesn't say much, does he?"

Harry picked up an ale. "Nope. But he's makes a great meal."

Bård passed the lemonade to Vegard and picked up a glass of ale. He frowned. "It's not cold. I thought American ales were cold."

"It isn't supposed to be cold. Drink it."

Bård sipped his ale and smiled with surprise. "This is good."

Harry smiled. "McAnnally's serves the best ale in Chicago. It's the Michael Jordan of adult beverages."

Bård took another swallow and studied Harry. He'd been watching the wizard all the way to the pub, trying to decide if he was truly trustworthy. Sam had said he was. And Bård was desperate to have some one tell him whether he was really free of the monster that had possessed him in Tokyo. But that was personal. Very personal. One has to crawl before one walks.

So instead of asking directly, Bård just elbowed Vegard and said, "So can you explain exactly why Vegard's like this? I think he's even worse after fixing that man's leg."

Harry shrugged out of his coat. "Tell me, Vegard, is it quieter in here than outside?"

Vegard nodded. "Better."

Harry gestured to the room. "This room is set up to disperse magical energies; that's going to shield you somewhat from psychic noise." He looked at Bård and added, "I'd bet his ward normally shields him from a lot of that as well."

Bård nodded. "Makes sense. He said it was quieter when I helped him earlier."

Harry shrugged. "On top of that, healing magic isn't easy. I'm guessing you were mortally wounded; it takes a lot of will to heal a mortal wound. And his ward was totally depleted. I bet he even had to spend a lot of will just keeping you from getting squashed by the rubble."

Vegard nodded too enthusiastically. "It was very many like that."

"And fixing that leg used up more of his will."

"Will?"

"His magical energy."

Bård rolled his eyes. "Ah.  I watched him fix that broken bone.  It was very odd. It took only a few moments although it felt longer."

"What about when he fixed your wound earlier?"

"It was over in the blink of an eye. One moment I was cut and then he simply reattached my arm."

Calle did a spit take into his ale and sat back, coughing and sneezing into a napkin. He finally managed to say, "Reattached your arm?"

"Yeah."

Harry eyed Vegard speculatively. "It's easy to blow stuff apart. You're just giving entropy a nudge when you vaporize an object. But reversing entropy like you do when healing a wound takes a phenomenal amount of concentration and power."

Bård shrugged. "Despite his appearance, Vegard's actually pretty talented."

Vegard gave the double thumbs up. "Very many!"

Harry glanced at him but said to Bård, "But you say you've only been doing magic for a year?"

"Yeah."

Harry studied Bård curiously. "I'm guessing you did some day saving of your own in Tokyo. And at a cost. Weren't you tired afterwards? A big fight usually wears me out."

Bård shook his head. "I don't remember."

"Really? Usually I remember fighting a Big Bad."

"No, I mean I don't remember because Mothra took away my memory of most of it. They tell me I was having PTSD about having been possessed... and so I asked them to take it away."

Harry grunted. That explained at least some of the missing chunks of Bård’s essence he’d seen back in the hospital. "Do you regret that? Usually taking away memories leaves holes the brain doesn't like dealing with. And it's incredibly dangerous, like taking a random part out of a car engine. If it's the wiper fluid you're okay, but if it's the spark plugs you're screwed."

"I don't know. What I do remember was terrible. And my brain seems to be working okay."

Calle sighed but said only, "I'm glad you forgot it, Bård."

Vegard took a long drag from his lemonade and piped up. "We were never tired. We were helped of Mothra. Very many."

"Ah. You pooled your power with the giant moth."

"Yep!" Vegard grinned at Harry. "She is very cool."

"Then I'm guessing you two didn't get tired because Mothra was feeding you the equivalent of magical intravenous Red Bull."

"Yep! Many Red Bull!"

Calle squinted at his friend. "Your English is getting worse with every word you say."

Vegard frowned and said slowly, "No. It isn't. My English. Is excellent."

Bård grinned. "His English is many excellent, Calle."

"My mistake."

The barman brought a tray of steak sandwiches, which the men spent several minutes eating with intensity. They were hot and salty and delicious. Vegard wolfed his down and immediately demanded another. Bård stood and went to order for his brother.

As Bård slid back into the booth with a second lemonade for Vegard, Harry turned to Calle. "So you were there as well, with them, in Japan?"

Calle drank the last of his ale and said, "Yep. They both got magical power. All I got was a necklace." He pulled an enameled pendant out from his shirt and showed it to Harry.

Harry drew back. "That's a ward as well."

"Is it?" Calle held it forward and peered down his nose at the charm.

"Have you had unusual luck the last year? Any colds going around the office you didn't catch? And today: you didn't get injured from all the brick and glass, right?"

Calle blinked rapidly at Harry and finally said, "I need another drink." He got up hastily and walked towards the bar.

As he walked away, Bård asked, "So why did Vegard get a shield and healing and I got the blasters and destruction?"

"Don't know. The wards look the same to me. Maybe you just gravitated to what you expected to get. You're both fighters, but he's more of a paladin and you're more of a ranger."

"Paladin? What, like World of Warcraft?"  
  
Harry made a face. "I'm old school, my friend. I meant Dungeons and Dragons. Besides, I told you. I don't do well with computers. Electronics tend to die around magic. I expect your phones are all dead after that business with the sewer demons."

Bård frowned and pulled out his phone. He flipped it out of its case. "No. It's fine." He powered it on and held it out towards Harry, who hastily drew back. Bård shrugged and put it away. He added, "We noticed the phones died the first few times we got attacked, and we tried several types of cases. The silicone ones work best."

Harry peered at the case. "Silicone? I would have thought iron or steel."

Bård shrugged. "Silicone and solid state." He held it up and said enthusiastically in an American accent. "Gotta love it!"

Harry smiled. "I don't know much about magic and silicone. Huh. I wonder if that's why so few magical ladies have boob jobs."

"Surely if you were a magical lady you could simply magically increase your bra size."

"I suppose." Harry frowned thoughtfully and sipped his drink.

Calle returned with a fresh glass of ale and Vegard's second sandwich. He raised his glass. "Maybe we should make a toast. That we survived the apocalypse."

Harry made a face. "Pfft. Are you kidding? That wasn't the apocalypse."

"It wasn't?!"

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't count as the apocalypse unless reality is destroyed or fundamentally changed. Or the planet blows up. Something that would put a real dent in humanity's social calendar. That little adventure was just a very near miss."

Vegard said with confusion, "But the world was overrun of monsters and we killed Jormungand with gigantisk the moth."

Harry shrugged. "That happens quite a lot, actually."

Bård, Vegard and Calle glanced at each other. Bård said skeptically, "You're joking, right?"

"I admit I've never seen a preposterously large moth, but big creatures happen all the time. Like that demon today. But what I mean is that there are a lot of people and monsters and... other creatures fighting the war between good and evil every day. Not to minimize what you guys did. That was really impressive work. Especially for amateurs. Saved a lot of lives."

Calle frowned, "But Bård figured out that the monsters attacked every 700 years or so. Are you saying it wasn't a big deal?"

"No, it was a huge deal. Those particular monsters. What the news dubbed The Titans..." Harry popped the last bite of his steak sandwich into his mouth and wiped his hands on a napkin. "I'll agree those monsters sucked and we still haven't figured out which particular evil nasty was leading them. You know, there was an entire herd of wendigo rampaging through Union Station; they still haven't repaired all the damage and without full commuter service it's really screwed up traffic. It's faster to just walk most places. And a lot of innocent people died, especially in the cities. Chicagoland alone lost almost thirty thousand people. Just about everyone knows someone that was killed."

Bård sobered. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. That battle was out in the open and battles with human bystanders always really, really suck. Civilians get killed in ways they don't even understand and that just ends up producing a lot of extremely confused ghosts that cause even more trouble. That's why most of the time we try to fight in places where sane people don't go, and the reports of monsters tend to be ignored."

Vegard leaned forward. "Do you mean somewhere such as the underworld? Or the astral plane?"

"No, I mean like Detroit."

"Ah."  Vegard took hold of his straw and slurped loudly around the ice cubes of his first glass of lemonade.  Bård let out a world weary sigh and picked the straw up and put it into the second glass.  Vegard never let the straw out of his mouth, and began emptying the new drink immediately.

Harry smiled and took another sip of ale. He said, "Surely you've noticed, right, that conspiracy theorists insist the Titan attacks never happened. Despite all the evidence and witnesses and film. That's human nature for you. That kind of denial is what has, until now, kept magic of the radar of most of the first world for hundreds of years. Now with film and cellphone cameras, people are finally admitting something strange is going on."

Calle looked up from his ale. "Mio said something about that back in Japan. About Good versus Evil. She said it was a constant battle that had gone on for thousands of years. I got the impression she and Bob had been enemies for centuries if not more."

"I don't remember any big bads called Bob."

"She called him Tiamat.  I think the name Bob was Bård's idea."

Harry's eyes widened. "Tiamat? You don't fool around, do you?"

Bård sniffed and swirled the remaining ale in his glass. He grunted, " _Tiamat_ was an asshole."

Harry snorted, "I’d think so. Well, I’m impressed. You aren't amateurs if you ran into Tiamat and survived, no matter what the injuries. You're well on your way to being bona fide practitioners."

Bård smiled wryly, "I'd rather be an amateur if I can avoid seeing Bob again."

Harry shook his head. "Hell's bells. Tiamat. You know, I heard about six months ago that Tiamat got the shit kicked out of her by someone and she was lying low and slumming again as the queen of the naga."

Bård frowned and asked, "Slumming?"

At the same time, Vegard asked, "Naga?"

And Calle asked, "She?"

Harry looked at Vegard. "Well, not exactly naga. Tiamat's usual homies are a sort of serpent demon; they're lizardy fishy snakey people.  You know the type, human from the waist up, that sort of thing."

Calle said, "I saw a beach assault by creatures like that in Japan.  It was extremely bizarre.  They were all incredibly beautiful."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I bet that's who you saw. Scaly supermodel shapeshifting mermaid-naga uber-bastards. I've met a few of the females in my time. Golden skin, Marilyn Monroe sex appeal, but one hundred percent, unadulterated, unpasteurized, grade A evil. You can spot one pretty easily because they stink of the ocean. And by ocean I mean they smell like dead fish. Even more than regular mermaids." He grimaced and sipped his drink.

Bård sucked in a breath. A beautiful golden female serpent creature that smelled like the sea? It couldn't be. In his head Bob had been a lot of things. But not the spirit of the fire he'd seen so long ago when he and Vegard had been kidnapped in Illinois. How could he have not made the connection before?

Calle asked hopefully, "You're saying mermaids really exist?"

Harry swallowed the last of his ale. "Don't get your hopes up. Even some of the nice mermaids think it's hilarious to pull humans into the water and watch them drown. If you can manage it, it's best to stay out of the oceans. Well, and a lot of the lakes." He sighed. "Actually, it's best to never leave your home." He laid three twenty dollar bills on the table and said, "Okay, Vegard, you keep moving that arm; your shield will charge back up in no time. Same goes for you, Bård. In the meantime I'll do some checking with the White Council. See if they have any intel on you or this Satan cult. I'll be in touch."

Bård nodded. "Anything you can do or tell us will be helpful."

"Sure thing. Sorry, but I've got to go; I've got a midnight appointment downtown I can't miss. Just... just try not to do any magic until you can get formal training. I don't want you or anyone else to get hurt. And I don't want the Grey Wardens noticing you two."

Bård asked, "Why do you think we might hurt someone? Do you mean we will turn evil or something?"

"Nothing like that. I just don't want a spell to go sideways and injure bystanders. Or you."

Bård frowned. "You mean like earlier today?"

Harry smiled encouragingly. "No, no, that disaster was my fault. And I'm sorry you got hurt but I really appreciate you guys saving my cat for me."

Vegard smiled. "I like grey cats."

"Me too. I owe you, and in my business, that's a big deal. You have my card?"

Calle shook his head. "Bård has it."

Harry stood and handed Calle another card. "This is how to reach me if you need me. I hope you never will."

Bård grunted, "You hope we never call you?"

"No, I hope you never need me." Harry shrugged back into his long black coat, bent down to murmur something in Vegard's ear and slipped him another card. Then he turned and left.

Calle raised a brow. "What was that about?"

Vegard frowned down at the card and then looked back at the door to the pub. " _Jeg vet ikke."_

Bård drank the last of his ale and nodded to Calle. "I'm going for a walk. I'll see you at the hotel. Vegard needs to sleep. Take a taxi."

Vegard looked up and said in Norwegian. "We shouldn't split up. And it's late at night. American cities are very dangerous."

"I’ll take Romeo with me. In case of emergency, hide behind Calle."

Calle grunted and gave Bård the finger.

Bård threw another twenty on the table. "Have another round of drinks. I'll see you in an hour at the hotel. Don't do anything stupid."

"What's wrong?"

"I need to think. I'll see you at the hotel. In an hour." Bård zipped up his hoodie and hurried out of the pub.

Calle sighed down at the cash on the table. "I don't think Bård actually knows the exchange rate for dollars. So, either we order more drinks or the barman gets the most ridiculous tip of his life. I vote for drinks."

Vegard sighed and slid Harry's card into his wallet. "Drinks all around. And I want another sandwich."

[ ](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/YStW4_Ch12_McAnallysBrokenBone_zpssnsp9snr.jpg.html)


	13. Underwater Panther

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bård has a good think about his situation and the future for his family.

[ ](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/YStW4_photos13UnderwaterPanther_zpsnua6aggq.jpg.html)

Bård found Romeo standing outside the pub door, talking into his cell phone and glowering at passers-by. As Bård approached Romeo clicked off his cell phone. "Sir?"

"It really isn't necessary to call me sir. Bård is fine. Or _Bart_ if it is easier."

Romeo grinned and said, "Force of habit. Besides, I'm trying to maintain a certain level of professionalism... _sir."_

Bård rolled his eyes. "I'd be angry but you look very scary with the black outfit and the earpiece."

"That's the idea."

"And I'm terrible in a fight. You'd drop me with the first punch."

Romeo sobered and raised a dark brow, "From what I've seen, you are very, _very_ good in a fight."

"Not normal hand-to-hand fighting."

"Perhaps I can arrange some self-defense lessons for you. Couldn't hurt to be prepared."

Bård considered the comic possibilities. Maybe they could do a segment like that on their television show. Vegard would be hilariously terrible. "Maybe some day. Right now I just need to walk and think. Somewhere not too crowded."

"What about the others?"

"Vegard and Calle are staying for another drink."

"Alright. Follow me. Sir."

Bård smiled despite himself. "Thanks. If you insist on calling me 'Sir' then what should I call you?"

Romeo grinned. "You can call me... Sir."

 

A block away from the bar Bård glanced back to find that a second giant man in black had taken Romeo's place near the entrance to McAnally's. Where had the second man been hiding? Sam had said there would be other eyes on the brothers but Bård hadn't really taken him at his word. The idea that Sam was truly watching over them so carefully relieved Bård more than he thought it should.

They ended up walking south on Michigan Avenue in the downtown shopping district, past the upscale boutiques and chains clearly meant for the wealthiest tourists. This time of night the shops were closed, but the sidewalks were well lit, clean and quiet. Large planters of bright flowers were set along the sidewalk; they reminded Bård of his neglected garden at home. He missed that garden.

As Romeo steered Bård down the street they passed a few couples walking quietly together or sitting on benches. The homeless people he'd seen at the avenue's street corners during the day were gone; presumably they'd moved west to the bar district where their prospects were better on a Friday night.

They walked past a Tiffany's jewelry store and Bård paused to look at the window display. It featured expensive diamond and gold bracelets and pendants, many engraved with hearts or the word "love". He thought of his wife. He expected Maria would scold him if he got some expensive bauble like that as a gift for her. She didn't need something like that; she knew how he felt about her and their children.

Bård chewed his lip, studying the little heart-shaped charms on one of the bracelets in the window. He wondered what Maria would say if he told her Bob had chosen him in Tokyo because he had been marked by a Satanic spirit when he was young.  Should he even tell her? Of course he should tell her. She deserved to know.

Bård sighed and moved past the jewelry storefront. Over the last year he hadn't been able to make Maria understand the danger he posed to their family. Maybe including Satan in the equation would convince her. He had to tell her, of course. But he didn't think he could bear it if she lost faith in him. The way he'd lost faith in himself.

He pointed south and asked, "What's down this way if we keep walking?"

"About a twenty minute walk from here is the Art Institute of Chicago. And the Chicago Symphony."

"Okay."

"They're closed this time of night."

"Makes sense."

Bård thrust his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and thought it was a pity Sif couldn't be with them on this trip; she loved art and music and had often mentioned how unfortunate it was she couldn't go back to America to visit its museums. He thought of Sif sitting for a winter portrait years ago when Jens had been in art school. Bård and Maria had gone to Oslo to visit and they had been sitting in a corner playing with Sofie and Jonas while Jens tried to work. But Sif wouldn't stop giggling and Bård hadn't been able to resist making her laugh even more with jokes and teasing. Finally Jens had given up on the painting and they'd all gone out and played in the snow. It had been a happy time. Of course, Sif was was always cheerful, despite the misery she'd endured as a child. Maybe Sif could help him. Of course she could. She was the only one who could. He should talk to her. He pulled out his phone.

_"Hallo?"_

"Sif?"

"Bård? What's the matter?"

"Were you sleeping?"

 _"Nei_ , of course not."

"Are you alone?"

"I am. I'm feeding Margit. She's a little fussy this morning. Everyone else is outside in the back. What's the matter?"

"How do you know something is the matter?"

"I can hear it in your voice. What happened?"

"I was sort of murdered but Vegard fixed me."

_"Hæ?!"_

"Just like new."

"I don't understand."

"Today I got injured in a fight. This big blade... cut through my chest. Through my ribs and shoulder. It was a fatal wound. It basically cut my arm off. But Vegard just... fixed it."

"You're joking."

"Roaming charges here are ridiculous. I wouldn't call you for a prank. Honestly. I should be dead right now. But somehow Vegard healed me."

There was a long pause and Sif finally said, "I knew it!"

"What did you know?"

"I knew Vegard was special. Maybe I really should have a baby with him."

 _"Æsj._ You really shouldn't."

"Did you tell him about what you can do on your own?"

_"Ja."_

"Finally. Did he lecture you?"

 _"Nei._ He already knew."

"And you say he brought you back from the dead?"

"I wasn't dead yet. But he definitely kept me from dying."

"So he has his own abilities."

"He does."

"You see? Your explosion power isn't from Bob. I told you. Is this healing power why Vegard's been acting so strangely?"

"I don't know."

"Didn't you ask him?"

_"Nei."_

"Why not?"

"He said I'm the one who has been acting strangely."

Sif laughed and said, "That sounds like him. So, should I get Maria so you can talk to her?"

"Don't bother her with this. Please. She's already worried enough about me. I'll tell her when I get home."

"But... why would you want to tell me instead?"

Bård glanced at Romeo. He was clearly alert, looking around, staring down oncoming pedestrians. Even with his dreadlocks neatly tied back he looked like a barbarian when he scowled at people. He'd said he was from Jamaica. Surely he didn't speak Norwegian. So Bård asked softly, "How did you _really_ kill the wolves that came to your farm during the Titan attacks?"

"I've told you many times that I don't want to talk about it. It was incredibly upsetting."

"Maria said she didn't hear a rifle shot. You said you'd been studying Wicca or something. Did you use magic?"

"Of course not."

"Maria told me the girls think you are a witch."

"I'm not a witch. I can't do magic."

"I think you might be able to."

"Why?"

"I met a magic specialist. A sort of wizard. He said that Mothra wouldn't have chosen us if we didn't already have some powers. The Calling ceremony... did it give me some special ability? Tell me."

"Why are you asking me this now?"

"I think the reason Bob picked me to possess was something to do with the Calling ceremony back in Illinois. When this wizard described Bob's associates they sounded just like the spirits in the fire."

"Hm. Probably."

Bård frowned up at a flashing Don't Walk light at a street corner. "Just like that you say _probably_?"

"Our powers... they come from Satan. They're entropic. Destructive. It makes sense. That a demon like Bob would have been attracted to that."

"Our powers? You said you were learning prayers and blessings. You didn't say anything about actual powers."

Sif hesitated but then said, "I'm very good at reading Tarot cards."

"That isn't really a power. What about the wolves?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Sif. Come on. I need to know."

"If I tell you, you might not like me any more."

"You know that isn't true. Tell me what happened."

Sif was silent for a moment and then said, "You must promise not to tell anyone, ever, not even Maria."

Bård mulled that over. "Okay."

"I was so terrified that day that when I saw the wolves that I chanted a prayer to Satan, just from habit, from the old days, when I used to pray for him to save me from abuse in the cult. But the wolves dropped in their tracks. Bård, when we looked at the corpses, there were burned smoking holes where their hearts had been."

" _Jesus Christ,_ Sif."

"If it was magic it was black magic. It's exactly what I've spent my life trying to fight. To save animals, not to hurt them. Thinking of it makes me feel ashamed."

"Those weren't animals. They were monsters that would have killed you. And killed my family."

"Maybe. But maybe the wolves were just part of the natural cycle. Was it right for me to stop them?"

"You did the right thing."

"That's what Jens tells me. But it didn't feel like the right thing. It felt evil."

"Have you killed anything else?"

"I hope not."

"What about other magic?"

"I've been afraid to try any real spell. I keep hoping it wasn't me, that maybe it was a higher power. Then again, I'm also frightened that maybe Jonas did it."

"Jonas?"

"All my babies are destined to be Called by Satan. Jonas is getting old enough. I'm afraid for him."

Bård rubbed his neck. This phone call wasn't easing his mind even a tiny bit. "I thought for someone to be Called they have to be chosen at a ceremony with a human sacrifice."

"No. Human sacrifice only happened four times when I was in the cult."

"Four times?! _Jesus Christ,_ Sif."

"The sacrifice was usually an animal."

"Are you saying that if you hold a barbecue your children will be contacted by Satan?"

Sif grunted and said, "That never crossed my mind."

Bård thought for a moment and said, "It occurs to me that maybe the Calling is just Satan, or Bob, or whoever, noticing someone in the crowd who has their own talents. Maybe that magical death spell is something you would have been able to do anyway."

Sif sighed. "The Church taught that any woman who was Called to service Satan would have babies that would also be Called. I've wondered whether the Call works by some epigenetic mechanism."

"Did you say genetic? As in I could have passed this on to my children?"

"I think only women pass it on."

Bård let out a breath. He expected it would be rude to say he was relieved. "Maybe I should have you talk to this wizard. He might be able to give you some answers."

"I'll think about it. But Vegard was able to avoid the Call, and his abilities are constructive, not destructive. Maybe the call is what turned our powers to evil. Maybe Vegard's blessed seed would truly protect a child I could make with him. And that child could protect the others. I won't live forever."

"And here I thought you just had a fetish for little dark men."

"That too." Sif laughed nervously. She wasn't the nervous type.

Bård sighed and said, "Listen to me. This doesn't change my opinion of you at all, Sif."

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"Okay."

The traffic light changed and Bård moved forward beside Romeo. They walked through a small plaza and passed over a bridge straddling a small river cutting through the city. Bård glanced down at the black water, the reflection of the city lights and the moon broken over its opaque surface. It reminded him of the dark pools of blood in his nightmares. He shuddered.

Sif asked, "Does knowing about the wolves help you? I've kept it secret for so long. I'm so terrible at lies it's a bit of a relief to tell someone."

"It does help me. Do you remember if the people who were Called were ever possessed? Or did accidental magic that hurt someone? Or did something else awful that wasn't explained?"

Sif didn't answer.

Bård persisted. "Sif?"

Finally she said quietly, "Everyone in the Church did things that were awful."

Bård flinched. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It can't be helped."

"Now I've made you unhappy. I'm sorry for that."

"Don't be. This is the burden we will always carry. Whether we like it or not we've been marked. And we have these gifts. We have a responsibility to the world to keep our powers from hurting innocent people."

"How are we supposed to do that? This specialist said that Vegard and I are _both_ dangerous. That we don't understand our powers."

Sif hesitated and then offered, "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from the Call back then."

"Don't be absurd;  you were practically Sofie's age.  Just a child."

"I suppose.  Tell me what Vegard did, exactly."

"I don't know. A blade went through my chest and all but severed my arm. He got in my head somehow and when he was finished I was whole. He saved my life. I feel I've gotten a second chance that I'm not sure I deserve."

"Of course you deserve to be alive. Your children need their father." Sif sniffed wetly.

 _"Ja."_ Bård grimaced.  Was Sif crying? He'd called her for support and had only succeeded in making her upset as well. He said, "I should go."

"Okay. Call back if you need to."

"Okay. But only if you promise that you will never use the phrase _Vegard's blessed seed_ ever again."

Sif laughed. "How about _Vegard's consecrated ejaculate_?"

 _"Fy faen_ , Sif. He isn't exactly the Holy Spirit."

Sif sighed longingly. "But Vegard is so... wonderful."

"I'm hanging up now to vomit."

Sif laughed and said, _"Jeg er glad i deg_ , Bård."

"Okay. Get some sleep."

"It is morning here. You're the one that should sleep."

"True."

_"God natt, sov godt."_

Bård clicked off his phone and said, "I guess I'll start heading home, Romeo."

"Yes, sir."

"Seriously, you don't have to call me sir. It actually makes me feel a little uncomfortable."

"Sorry. But I was impressed by your abilities this afternoon. Think you deserve a little recognition of that, Bård."

Bård looked up from his phone. "You said my name correctly."

"I try to be accurate."

"Now I'm impressed." Bård realized they were standing in another plaza. "Where are we?"

"Millenium Park." Romeo pointed toward the lake. "There's an outdoor auditorium back over there; they do free concerts all summer. And over here is the Panther Memorial."

Romeo led Bård to a larger-than-life bronze statue on a marble plinth. Bård frowned. The statue depicted a dozen young African-American teens all dressed in contemporary gang-style clothing. They all held weapons: handguns, machine guns, baseball bats. One boy held a machete. They stood on and around the severed head of a giant beast. It looked like a tiger or jaguar, but with bison horns. Scales covered the skin instead of fur or whiskers. The exposed fangs were a half-meter long.

Bård asked, "What is this, exactly?"

"There weren't enough police or military during the Titan attacks to cover the whole city, so the locals had to fight. I'm sure it was the same in Europe. A lot of people died. This statue commemorates a victory that meant a lot to Chicagoans."

"What happened?"

"A _mishibijiw,_ what's called an underwater panther, came out of the lake on the South Side and started rampaging through a poor neighborhood. An area with a lot of crime, murders, gang activity, that sort of thing. Two of the gangs decided to call a truce and managed to take it down."

"Were they that young? They look like kids."

"Yeah." Romeo pointed at the depiction of the slain monster's head. "The real monster was huge. It killed hundreds of people and even with all those armed kids it still took a hell of a lot of gunfire to take it down. After the attacks, this story got a lot of press and some of the kids who were there decided they liked being celebrity heroes more than they liked being criminals. A couple of them do reality TV now. And these days the city pays the ones who've stayed straight to work as protectors, sort of a citizen's crime patrol. Money isn't as good as selling crack, but it was good for morale and a year later most of those kids are still behaving themselves. The city's real proud about it."

Bård shook his head. "These gangs... no child should experience such a terrible life."

"No, sir."

"So sad that it is happening in a big city. We don't really have that sort of crime back in Norway."

"Maybe not. But the weather's a hell of a lot better here."

Bård smiled. "That is a matter of opinion."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Bård let out a sigh. "Do you believe in Hell, Romeo?"

"Pardon me?"

"Hell. Eternal damnation."

"Not exactly. But I have faith."

Bård turned to look carefully at the big man. "Faith in what, exactly?"

Romeo pulled at his neck and revealed a silver cross. "God. Helps a lot."

Bård turned away to study the statue. "You believe in God? Even with monsters attacking children?"

"Aren't the trials of life when you need faith the most?"

Bård chewed his lip. The children in the memorial weren't much older than his daughter Sofie. He said, "I don't know. Vegard is a militant atheist; he says Hell doesn't exist. But monsters and magic obviously exist. Why not Hell?"

"You know that religion and magic aren't mutually exclusive, right?"

"I don't know."

Romeo crossed his massive arms and studied Bård. "Why are you asking me this stuff?"

"You seem like a good man."

"I'll have to tell my mother you said so."

"And you say you're a Christian."

"I didn't say that."

"Do you think that sinners are doomed to eternal Hell, Romeo?"

Romeo shrugged. "My mother taught me that the sins of children are always forgiven by a loving parent, and we are God's children. She says our burden is to forgive ourselves. And each other."

"Hm."

"Are you worried about Hell for some specific reason? Because of the rampage of the demon in Tokyo?"

Bård looked sharply at Romeo. "How do you know about that?"

"I've seen your files."

Bård frowned. "So are you here to guard me from the public or to guard the public from me?"

"Sam only ordered me to keep you and Vegard safe. Do I need to worry about other people as well?"

Bård forced a smile and said, "I don't know. This has been a strange day. Let's go back to the hotel."

"Yes, sir."

"I probably just need some sleep."

Romeo nodded. "Yes, sir."

 

* * *

 

Bård gingerly opened the hotel room door, worried he might wake Vegard. He didn't really feel like talking and Vegard needed the sleep. But Bård needn't have bothered being careful. The light was on and Calle was sitting on Bård's bed looking at his phone. Vegard was in his own bed with all his pillows over his head.

Bård threw his hotel keycard onto the suite's coffee table and pulled off his hoodie as he walked towards his friends. "Why are you awake?"

Calle looked up. "I'm keeping Vegard company. He says he can't sleep because of all the noise."

Bård sat down, pulled off his shoes and stood to peel off his sweatpants. "I'll fix it. You should go to sleep."

"Frank from production called. He said we should sleep in tomorrow. They'll send a car around ten thirty."

"How did they find out what happened?"

Calle hooked a thumb toward Vegard. "Your big brother over there posted a picture of himself naked with that nurse in the hospital shower on Instagram with the caption, _Always wash after monster attacks_."

Bård rolled his eyes as he pulled off his socks. "Next time I'll remember to take his phone away when he's like this."

"It's actually a funny photo; he is holding a very strategic washcloth over his penis. Do you want to see?"

"Absolutely not. But thank you for babysitting him."

"Any time."

"And it was good of you to bring us the shoes and clothing and to take care of the work stuff, Carl Fredrik. I really appreciate it."

Calle shook his head, uncomfortable with the praise. "I'm glad you do."

"Now get out."

Calle smiled. "See you tomorrow, darling." Before leaving through the common door Calle turned and blew Bård a kiss.

"Out!"

As Calle's door closed, Bård pulled off his tshirt and looked at his brother. He was curled in a ball on his side, his pillows clamped over his head so hard that the muscles on his exposed arm were trembling.

Bård pulled off his briefs and asked, "Are you awake, Vegard?"

 _"Ja."_ Vegard waved his hand.

"I'm gonna go wash up. I'll be right back."

"I know."

"Turn off the light and try to sleep."

"Trying."

A short time later, Bård stood in front of the bathroom mirror toweling off his damp hair. He inspected himself and sighed. He liked being fit and feeling strong, and he enjoyed exercising. But it was getting harder to keep his weight down to TV standards, which were ridiculously thin. It seemed a bit pointless to stay thin just for television. But it was probably necessary for now, at least to have salt for the porridge. It would be tough on his family to suddenly lose the extra income he had with the television work. He turned sideways and used his fingertip to trace the new scar around his left shoulder and chest. He should be dead. If he were gone who would guard his family?

He thought of the children in the memorial statue and pictured Sofie with a baseball bat, cornered by some monster or madman. He and Vegard seemed to be magnets for magical danger. Maybe he should go get a real job. Something simple and boring and out of the international public's eye, as far away as possible from magic and politics and monsters. After all, what kind of father allowed his children to be subjected to that kind of threat? His family would be safer if he and Vegard stayed with their families full-time to guard them.

Or maybe they would all be safer without him. Maybe the magic would only follow the brothers.

Bård finished drying himself off, switched off the bathroom light and felt his way back to his bed.

"Bård?" Vegard's muffled voice sounded from beneath the pillows.

"What is it?"

"There's so much noise."

Bård sighed and shifted in his bed away from Vegard's voice. "Come here. I'll help you."

He heard Vegard get out of bed and move cautiously into bed beside him. Vegard turned toward Bård and put his hand on Bård's chest. "Help."

"Okay." Bård grasped Vegard's hand.

V: What a relief. That's so much better.  
B: Just try to sleep.  
V: Okay. Don't be so negative.  
B: I'm not being negative. Go to sleep.  
V: Your family needs you.  
B: I realize that. Sleep. Now.  
V: Just don't let go.  
B: I won't.  
V: I mean, in the morning. Just be a bit more gentle letting go.  
B: Go to sleep. In the morning you can let go at your own speed.  
V: ...I don't know how.  
B: Don't know how what?  
V: To let go. You always let go first.

Bård frowned. That couldn't be true, surely. Had he really always been the one to break the connection?

B: I didn't mean to be a bastard about it.

Vegard sleepily said out loud, "I'm proud of you."

B: I'm proud of you too. You're pretty amazing.  
V: _Drit i det._  
B: You saved my life today.

Vegard yawned, long and loud, and Bård felt him relax.

V: Your life is worth saving, my good little brother. Don't throw it away.  
B: Go to sleep. We'll go home day after tomorrow.  
V: You're a good boy.  
B: _Takk._ Now sleep.  
V: What a nice baby you are, little Bård. _Åååå,_ you're such a sleepy baby, aren't you? You're such a good little boy. Sweet baby.  
B: ...

Vegard squeezed Bård's hand, murmured something unintelligible, and began to snore.

Bård listened to his brother for several minutes. He wondered if, at some fundamental level, Vegard still thought of Bård as a helpless infant. Bård considered their baby brother Bjarte. Bård supposed he always thought of Bjarte as little, even though he was a grown man now. He expected Vegard felt that way about both of them. Bård sighed. There probably wasn't any way to convince Vegard deep down that Bård could take care of himself any more than he would ever convince his mother the same. It didn't really matter. And it wasn't so bad to have people who honestly wanted to take care of him.

Regardless, right now he had to take care of Vegard. Bård yawned and rolled his shoulders to get comfortable. Once he was sure Vegard was completely asleep he let himself drift off as well. But he didn't let go of Vegard's hand.


	14. Phone Call From Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short teaser to open the second half of the story.

[ ](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/YStW4_photosCh14PhoneCall_zpszwqiel1w.jpg.html)

“Thirty-seven!”

Vegard held up his hand and stepped to the counter, taking the warm bag proffered by the woman behind the breakfast counter. It smelled deliciously of hot bread and smoked salmon and that smelled like home. He’d come down into the shopping mall across from their hotel to get breakfast for Bård, Calle and himself. Something different to mark their last day here. They were set to go to the airport this afternoon and they planned spend the late morning at The Art Institute. Bård said he wanted to get Sif something from the museum gift shop.

Vegard felt good.  He'd woken up yesterday feeling surprisingly refreshed. He had only fragmented memories of the day before, although he was mortified to clearly remember taking the naked selfie on his instagram account. He texted an apology to his mother as soon as he woke up, which he immediately regretted, because then he had to text and then finally just call her to explain the circumstances of the photo and to assure her he and Bård were safe and well. When Bård found out their mother was on the phone he'd just laughed.

Yesterday's filming had also gone well. The production team had worked through the morning to make sure the brothers' time would be used efficiently and they'd wrapped by seven. Afterwards Bård pleaded a headache and went back to the hotel, but Vegard and Calle had gone for dinner at a Brazilian all-you-can-eat steakhouse. Eight servings of meat seemed to finally satisfy the ravenous hunger brought on by healing Bård.

When they'd returned to the hotel Bård had been in bed in his underwear, flipping television channels. He hadn't wanted to talk but he hadn't been hostile. Vegard assumed he'd offended Bård the previous day, and he'd tried apologizing for whatever it was.  Bård had just told him to _shuddup_ and wouldn't elaborate.

When Vegard had finally gotten to sleep, he'd had a psychedelic dream in which Shiva the Destroyer's wife was berating him because Shiva had to drink all the poison in the ocean caused by the explosion of the Midgard Serpent. It had been weird, but it hadn't really been a nightmare. Today he actually felt better rested than he had in a long time.

And today they were finally going home. As Vegard crossed the street towards their hotel his phone rang. It was his wife.

“Helene? _Hallo!”_

“Vegard! Are you okay?”

 _“Ja_ , of course.” Vegard walked through the sliding doors of the hotel and nodded a greeting at the smiling hotel doorman. "Why do you ask?"

“Didn't Bård tell you?"

 _"Nei._ What's going on?"

"They’re gone.”

Vegard frowned and pressed the hotel lobby elevator button. Helene sounded scared. “What do you mean?"

"They pulled them into the ground. _Herregud,_ what will we do?!”

Vegard glanced at his watch. It would be about three in the afternoon at home. “What happened? Who’s gone?”

“Nora and Honey and Jonas.”

Vegard’s chest tightened. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“We put the little ones down for a nap at two o'clock and we were outside enjoying the sun and then we heard Nora and Honey scream and these men were there with the kids.”

“Men?”

“The earth suddenly opened up in the grass and they popped up. They grabbed Honey and Nora and Jonas and disappeared back into the ground. They were only a few meters away from us, Vegard."

"From the ground?”

"Through the grass."

"What about Emma and Sofie and-?"

"Everyone else is okay. They were all inside the house."

Vegard punched the elevator button again. He had to get up to Bård. He asked, "What did they look like? The men I mean."

"They looked like skinheads. You know, Neo-Nazis. Black clothing, military vests, tattoos. Actually one of them looked a little like Matthew McConaughey."

"Who?"

"The actor."

_"Hva?”_

“Tall and thin.”

“Did they say anything?"

"I don't think so. They came out of the ground, through the grass, out of nowhere. They grabbed the kids and sank back into the earth. It was over in the blink of an eye. We ran out there but the ground was solid. There wasn't any trap door or anything like that."

 _"Jesus Christ._ How many were there?"

"Three men. The one that took Nora… Jonas tried to fight him off of her and they took him too. Maria is frantic. She's talking to Bård now."

The elevator door opened. “I’m going in an elevator. I’ve got to get back upstairs to Bård.”

“Okay.”

“Where are you now?” Vegard expected the signal to drop. It didn’t.

Helene said, “We’re at the house. Inside. Jens is here with his rifle. Sif is outside pacing around the house. She said she has to keep us safe. I guess it is one of her spells or something. I've never seen her like this, Vegard. She is totally shut down. No emotions.”

The elevator door opened and Vegard ran down the hall, stowing the bag of breakfast under his phone arm as he fumbled for the keycard to the hotel room.

“How are the other kids?”

“Most are still asleep, but I checked on everyone and I had to help with calming down Sofie. That’s why I didn’t call you until now, I had to be sure that they were all okay.”

“I understand.”

“We’re all scared. Poor Sofie is utterly beside herself for not protecting the others. She wasn't even making sense about the kidnappers. She said they were some sort of monsters from some videogame.”

Vegard felt for Sofie. As the oldest one it had always been his duty to watch the younger kids at any family gathering. Sofie had inherited the same job. She must be devastated.

The bodyguard outside their door watched Vegard struggling with his phone, food bag and wallet for a few moments, and then wordlessly pulled out his own room key and opened the door for Vegard. Vegard nodded at him and burst into the room. Bård was sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over his phone, speaking in a low, urgent whispers. He didn’t look up. Vegard opened the door to the adjoining room and beckoned to Calle.

Calle was awake, but still in bed. When he saw Vegard’s expression he asked, “What’s wrong?”

"Some men popped out of the ground back home and took Nora and two other children. Sounds like magic. Call home and make sure everyone is okay."

"Magic?" Calle's eyes widened with surprise but he nodded and pulled his phone off of his night table. As he flicked it on he said softly, "Maybe we should call that wizard Harry."

Vegard nodded and said into his phone, "Any sign of other monsters or people or-?”

Helene was talking to someone but came back to the phone. "I don’t think so. Is this something to do with the Titans?"

"Maybe. But if they were after us why take Sif's children?"

"I don't know. Vegard, I'm frightened."

"I'll get home as soon as we can. We'll try to get an earlier flight. And I met someone here who might be able to help. But for now stay put. And call up Strand and..."

Helene interrupted softly, "Before I called you I spoke to Major Strand; he said he would send a team to protect us... oh, I see them out the window. They're already here.”

Vegard swallowed hard, furious at himself for leaving Helene alone in Norway. But he was grateful she'd kept her head. "Good. Stay in the house; I'll call as soon as I know when we'll get home. Hang on."

 _"Jeg elsker deg_ , Vegard.”

 _"Jeg elsker deg,_ Helene. Stay safe. Be strong. I’m coming home."

Vegard ended the call. Bård was still talking quietly into his phone, still comforting his wife.

Vegard pulled out his wallet and drew out the card Harry Dresden had given him. On the back of the card, scrawled in ink, were the words Harry had written: _"Bård’s trauma is visible to me. Keep him safe until I know more."_ Vegard turned the card over and dialed the number listed.

The phone picked up after only one ring. A young woman answered, "Yes?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wanted to speak to Harry Dresden?"

"I take messages for him. Who is this?"

"My name is Vegard Ylvisåker. He told me to call if something bad happened."

"How bad?"

"Someone... something took one of our daughters."

The woman sucked in a breath. "When?"

"About twenty minutes ago. In Norway."

"You're not the only ones. Hold on." Vegard waited, still watching his brother. Bård hadn't moved. The woman's voice came back and she said urgently, "Listen. Harry says you need to come to us right away. Where are you?"

"In Chicago. We're at the Hilton Hotel near the John Hancock building. But we have to get home to Norway."

"We can get you there faster than any plane." She gave him an address and he repeated it back to her. She said, "Do you have a car?"

"Yeah"

"This time of day it won't take long to get here. We'll wait for you, but we have to go as soon as we figure out where they took all the kids."

 _"All_ the kids? There have been others?"

"As far as we can tell, in the last day or so dozens of children have been stolen from major players in the supernatural world. More reports every minute. Just get over here. Bring weapons if you have them. Oh, and if you have anything with you that belongs to your missing girl, bring that as well." She hung up.

Vegard grabbed his wallet and pulled on Bård's arm. "Get dressed, we're going to get help." Bård nodded and stood, still murmuring into his phone.

Vegard opened the door to tell their guard they were leaving. When he turned Calle was in the room, digging through the bag of breakfast food.

He pulled out a bagel and sniffed it. "They're okay at home. What's happening?"

"We're going to see the wizard."

Calle blinked several times but finally said, "I’ll put on some pants."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... I know I just posted a nice long chapter 13. But that left you with a happy warm feeling. Back to drama! Bwahahahaha! 
> 
> PS: Don't worry. There's always a happy ending.


	15. The Carpenters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ylvis finds help on the North Side of Chicago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I went to Norway in May 2015, one of our stops was a house in Eidsvoll where the Norwegian Constitution was written and finally signed on May 17, 1814 (hence the national holiday on May 17). Our tour guide told us that every Norwegian knows the slogan "Enig og tro til Dovre faller", translated "United and true until Dovre falls", Dovre referring to the Dovrefjell mountains and the area known as Dovre. There is archaeological evidence of Norwegian ancestors living in Dovre from 6000 years ago in an unbroken line until today. Isn't that cool?

The Sunday morning streets were quiet as the black SUV made its way quickly through the city. Bård finally hung up from his call with Maria with a soft, _"Jeg elsker deg,"_ and then gazed down at his phone, willing for it to ring again, for Maria to say it had all been a mistake. He asked quietly, "Did Harry say _how_ we are going to find them?"

Vegard answered. " _Nei._ But his assistant said they weren't the only children taken. We'll get Nora back. We'll get all of them back. I promise." Vegard rubbed Bård's forearm and Bård tensed. Since Tokyo they'd both been much more involved with their own children and well as each other's. Family had always been important to them both, of course, but now it was inconceivable to leave home for months at a time, regardless of the demands of their careers. Things had changed.

So Bård knew Vegard must be aching with terror for Nora, maybe even as much as he was. But he also knew the big brother act was just Vegard's way of dealing with stress. If Vegard was comforting someone else, he didn't have to think about his own worries. Bård looked down at Vegard's hand on his forearm; he hadn't let go. And he could sense his older brother's mind hammering at his own, begging to be let in.

But Bård didn't want to deal with Vegard's panic. He could barely keep his mind off the imagined torments his innocent daughter might be enduring at this very moment, provided she was still alive. Was she alive? Could she survive being pulled into the ground? What if the monsters had just dragged her twenty meters down and left her there, with nothing but mud and rock to breathe? Or had they taken her and Jonas and Honey for some sadistic ritual of rape, torture or death? Was his daughter in some black hole somewhere, fighting off a captor, or gasping her last breaths, wondering why her father hadn't come to save her?

_Herregud,_ Bård couldn't deal with Vegard's fears on top of his own. Vegard's imagination was more precise, more horrifically detailed. He'd be calculating the time it would take for her to bleed to death, or the pressures that a beast's talons would have to exert to tear her preadolescent tendons and bones apart.

Bård cursed and pulled away from Vegard. " _Nei,_ this is absurd. We're going home. She's more likely to be in Norway than here. _Fy faen_ , I should never have left Maria alone."

Calle looked up from his own phone and said, "I've just checked. The next best flight isn’t until 4:30 this afternoon, and that will get us into Oslo only an hour earlier than on the flight we've already booked. We have time to do this."

Vegard said, "Harry’s assistant said we can get there faster with him anyway." He put an arm around his brother's shoulders.

Bård hunched his shoulders until they were completely rigid with tension; and his fists were balled so hard the knuckles had gone white. He didn't want to connect with Vegard. He only wanted to scream and break something. He worked his jaw and stared out the window as the city rolled past.

Vegard's phone rang again and he pulled his arm away. "It's Sif. _Lillesøster?"_

There was a brief pause and Vegard said into his phone, "What do you mean, the Church took the kids?"

Bård startled and met eyes with Vegard. Vegard held up a hand but Bård snatched the phone away from him. "Sif?"

"Bård! I thought you were still talking with Maria. You're there in the States, right? The things that took them. They were serpents.”

"How do you know it was the Church?"

"I saw them. They were Satan's messengers, like the one who called us to service when we were young. Serpents. They came out of the ground and wrapped around Honey and Nora and the ground swallowed them. Jonas tried to save them but they took him too. We dug down but there was nothing but dirt.”

“Maria thought they were government men, in black suits and sunglasses. Sofie saw Slendermen. Wait, hold on."

He asked Vegard, "Who did Helene see taking the children?"

"She said they looked like Neo-Nazis.”

Bård turned back to the phone. "Sif. Helene saw Neo-Nazis take them."

Sif said, “Those were just illusions. They were serpents. Please, go to the Church and make them bring her back! They’ll hurt her. They don’t know the truth.”

"The truth?"

"About Satan. They don't understand what he really is. And Honey's only ten. She's innocent. They'll kill her or worse.”

"Worse?" Bård turned toward the window and said softly, "Sif. You're panicking. Calm down."

"They’ll know she's Called, Bård. They'll lame her so she can't run away and lock her up in some hole until she's old enough to breed. They'll take the babies away somewhere. They'll just sacrifice Jonas and Nora."

Bård's stomach lurched. But he said, "We talked with the FBI; they said the Church stopped killing people years ago."

"Then the FBI is part of the Church."

"Stop and think, Sif. Why would they take Nora? Why take her instead of your other kids?"

"I don't know. They must have found where I was and finally came for revenge."

Bård shook his head and glanced at Vegard. "If someone wanted revenge against you they'd have just murdered all of you, right? Long ago."

Sif's voice went completely flat. She said, "They'll come back and take all of my babies. The Church will never give up. They've been watching me all this time. They knew where I was.  All this time when I thought I was safe."

"Maybe whoever took the kids wants you to think it was the Church. Maybe it's some kind of trap."

"I don’t care if it’s a trap. I'm going to the Church. There's a group of The Faithful in Sweden, just across the border. I'm going to ask to be taken with them. I won't let my babies suffer without me."

"Are you insane? You can't do that. Think about your other children!"

"I am. It will stall the Church long enough for Jens to take my other babies somewhere new, where they won't be found again. I left a note."

"Don't run off like this.  We're going for help right now. Maria said Major Strand was already there with you.  We have help.   We'll get the FBI to help."

"The FBI is in on the whole thing. They all are.  They've lied to us all these years."

"That isn't true. Give us a chance to rescue them first."

"I'm already on the way. Goodbye, Bård. Tell Vegard I'm sorry."

"This is crazy, I'm not going to- Sif? _Sif!"_ Bård pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it with disbelief. He said dully, "She hung up. She's going to surrender herself to The Church. She said they have a satellite group across the border in Sweden."

Vegard grabbed his phone away from Bård and called Helene. But Sif had already left the farm. Jens had gone after her.

He hung up and Bård said quietly, “She said to tell you that she's sorry.”

Vegard set his jaw. “Helene is terrified of Neo-Nazis. When we were first dating, we were harassed by a group of them over near the University of Bergen because I’m dark. I talked them into leaving us alone but they scared her to death. And Maria hates the government men from the USA. You’ve told me.”

Bård nodded. He’d tried dialing Sif’s number several times with no luck. He began texting her and said “Sif only saw Serpents because she’s afraid of the Church. _Fy faen,_ why won’t she answer her _jævla_ phone?” He paused, thinking of his daughter. Nora was afraid of spiders. _Herregud._ What had she seen when she was kidnapped?

Calle said suddenly, "I want to help."

Bård glanced at Calle and met eyes with Vegard. Calle had proven himself to be discreet.  And he'd saved their lives more than once.

Vegard said curtly, “Sif is our sister. It’s a long story. No one knows about her outside our family. Whoever it was took that Nora also took two of Sif’s children. And now she's run off to be killed.”

Calle blinked at him but his reply was cut off by a chime from his phone. He glanced down and said, "Sam is texting again. He wants us to wait for him to get more information before we run off in a panic."

Vegard cursed and took Calle's phone to text a response.

Bård said, "Every second we wait is a second Nora has to be frightened for her life."

Vegard muttered, "It can't hurt to get the FBI involved, Bård. You just said so yourself."

Bård looked down at his own left hand;  it was clenched into a fist so hard he'd cut into his own palm with his fingernails. It throbbed in time with the sound of his own heartbeat, pulsing in his ears. As he watched the blood ooze from the moon-shaped wounds on his palm, a scream of rage and helplessness bubbled up in his chest. He said in English, "Hey. Stop the car."

The driver, Neil, the bodyguard Vegard had healed in the hospital, turned his head slightly. "Stopping."

The car slowed to a halt and Bård leapt out and retched into the grass on the curb, steadying himself with one hand on a steelclad streetlight buried in the cement of the city sidewalk. His heaving stomach had been mercifully empty, and as he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his hoodie he noticed a rain-spotted photocopy taped clumsily to the pole under his bracing hand. It read, "Lost Cat" and featured a phone number and a photo of a stupidly staring tabby cat being held by a little girl. Evidently the cat was called "Kitty". What a stupid name for a stupid cat.

Bård bellowed _"Faen!"_ into the sky and punched the streetlight in fury with a sickening crunch.  Even with his "iron fist" his hand hurt like hell. But he'd bent the metal pole. Good. Stupid pole. He got back in the car.

The passenger side bodyguard, Dolph, one of the Germans from their first day, took a moment to inspect the damage to the street pole and then closed Bård's door.

Bård grunted, "Let's go."

Dolph got back into the car, shrugged at Neil, and they took off again.

Bård held his bloodied knuckles under Vegard's nose. "I hurt my hand."

"I see that."

"Fix it."

Vegard handed Calle's phone back to him and said, "Can you just text Sam where we're going?"

Neil glanced at them in the rear view mirror and said, "We've already notified Agent Kim of our destination."

"Okay, thanks." Vegard took Bård's hand and frowned. "You've broken it. You’re going to owe me another sandwich for this."

Bård grunted with annoyance. Vegard was trying to distract him. He shouldn’t punch Vegard... at least not until he’d fixed his hand.

 

* * *

 

Fortunately, the city blocks soon gave way to small single homes and tree-lined streets, and soon they pulled up in front of a modest home surrounded by a white picket fence.

Calle was surprised to see Romeo, wearing a tailored grey suit and tie, standing on the front lawn of the home. He approached as the car drove up and opened the door for Bård.

Bård snapped, "I don't need a bodyguard right now."

"I know. I've been reassigned to your daughter's case."

Bård nodded absently and walked past him.

Calle looked Romeo up and down. "You got here quickly."

Romeo let out a breath. "Agent Kim called me out of church. Glad he did. You'll need me."

Romeo leaned into the SUV to talk to the bodyguards as the Norwegians walked up to the little gate.

A very large, very solemn young man with short blond hair, a close-cropped beard and a white tank top stood on the sidewalk with his arms folded. The sleeveless shirt showed off the ornate tattoo on his arm that read _Enig og tro til Dovre faller_. He held up a hand and said in a Western Norwegian dialect, “Be warned, these people are protected.”

Vegard shrank back under the gaze of his icy blue eyes. They reminded him of Sif’s. He stammered, “We don’t mean any harm to anyone. We just need help.”

The young man turned his attention to Bård, who was angrily working his jaw.  Bård said, “Get out of the way.  Someone took my daughter.”

The man’s face softened with sympathy. “I understand. But this ground is holy, and we will not allow magic to be used against the family that lives here.” He gestured to Bård. “Control your beast.”

Bård's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"Save your anger for the true villains. Do not lose your temper here. These people are not to be harmed."

Bård frowned but nodded.

The young man stepped to the side.

As he passed the man, Calle asked, “I take it you’re from Norway? It’s a small world.”

“Yes it is.”

"The big black guy in the suit is with us."

"He is welcome. But the men in the car may not come in."

Calle didn't think the bodyguards were particularly useful against magic anyway, given what had happened with the sewer demon. So he shrugged and said, "Okay. But if they leave you'll have to drive us home."

The young man nodded and the three friends walked through the fence gate.

A pretty young blond woman opened the door.  Despite the fact that she wore no makeup and her hair was pulled back in a hasty ponytail, she was pretty.  She looked Swedish. She smiled at them in greeting and said, “Hello. You must be Bård and Vegard, I recognize you from your book. I’m Molly Carpenter. Come in. We’re tracking where they took the children.” She ushered the brothers inside.

As he reached the door, Calle said, “I'm Calle."

Molly's face lit up and she shook his hand enthusiastically. "Calle? Oh, Calle! Of course! I'm so pleased to meet you! I read the book you all wrote about Japan. It was amazing."

"I'm glad you liked it." Calle hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Who is that very grouchy young man guarding the gate? He spoke Norwegian.”

Molly glanced past him and said, “That's Uriel. He knows a lot of languages.”

“His dialect was perfect.” Calle followed her gaze. Uriel was gone. But Romeo was headed towards them and the bodyguards were driving away.

When Calle turned back, Molly smiled with encouragement. She said, “Don't worry. It's safe inside.”

"Why wouldn't it be safe?"

"I don't know. But you look worried.  I promise it will all make sense."

Calle sighed. "I sincerely doubt that."

Behind him Romeo cleared his throat. Calle turned and introduced him, "This is Romeo. He's sort of our bodyguard."

Molly extended a hand. "Hello Romeo. If Uriel says you're okay then you're okay with me too."

Romeo ducked his head. "I appreciate that, ma'am."

"Please, come in."

Calle cocked his head at Romeo and asked, "You knew that guy?"

"He gets around. So do I.  Let's go in."

They crossed the home's threshold and Molly led them through the entry hall and into the main front room of the house. The solid wood floors were stained a dark oak and the sofas and comfortable chairs were clad in mostly denim blues and forest greens. The floor and furnishings were clean and welcoming, but they both showed signs of heavy wear. A sturdy bookcase on one wall held children's books mixed in with an old-style encyclopedia and a heavy family bible. On one of the chairs Calle spotted a lone softball, and a wicker basket in a corner was filled with what were unmistakably dog chew toys. Heavily chewed.

The house smelled of bacon and toast and coffee, but was almost frighteningly quiet. Molly led them through the front room and into an open dining room where Harry, Thomas and a middle-aged couple were gathered around a dining table big enough for ten people. They were speaking softly to each other and looked grim. Harry soberly dangled a medallion on a string over the maps spread onto the dark oak surface of the table, his face taut with concentration.

But Thomas looked up and smiled at Calle in recognition. Although his appearance hadn’t changed, his sexy aura was much diminished. That was spooky. Calle shuddered. Maybe Thomas really was a vampire.

Romeo let out a breath, crossed his arms and leaned nonchalantly against the wall, his massive shoulder barely touching one of a framed children's drawings hung neatly above a long sideboard. Calle immediately forgot Romeo was there and looked at the drawings with the interest only a parent could understand. One crayon rendition of a girl and a big pink flower achingly reminded Calle of one of his own daughter's preschool art pieces. Calle treasured that drawing. He glanced at Bård. He couldn't imagine how terrified Bård must be for Nora.

Thomas approached and asked softly, “Who's missing?

Calle said, “Bård’s daughter.”

Vegard added, “And a niece and nephew.”

“How old?”

“Ten, eleven and twelve.”

Thomas glanced at Molly. She leaned in and whispered, “Harry is tracking my sister Maggie. She’s eleven. She took her dog for a walk before breakfast and he came back without her. He'd been shot.”

Bård grunted but Vegard offered, “The men who took our kids came out of the ground. Magic.”

Molly set her jaw. “More likely it was a veil.” At Vegard’s questioning expression she explained, “An illusion. It’s far easier to cast that spell than to actually burrow in or out of the ground.”

Bård let out a breath. “That’s a relief. I’ve been thinking about how frightening it would have been to be pulled into the dirt.”

Molly nodded sympathetically. “I'm sure it was just an illusion. But it was magic just the same. Whoever took Maggie were just regular men. The guardians can’t interfere with humans, only supernaturals, so they couldn't protect her.”

Calle let out a breath. It turned to fog. "Why is the air conditioning in here turned up so high?"

Molly shook her head. "The AC isn't on. Harry's just pissed off."

"I don't understand."

A whine came from a room past the table. Bård’s ears perked up. “Is that the dog that was shot?”

“Yes, he’s in the kitchen, but-”

“Vegard, come on.” Bård pushed past Molly and toward the kitchen. She followed them.

That left Calle standing with Thomas, who said, “Well?”

Calle smiled and gave a little nervous wave. “Hello.”

“I hear you don’t like vampires.” Thomas smirked and looked him up and down. He leaned in and said softly, “You look delicious.”

Calle squeaked.

From the table Harry said impatiently, “Thomas, stop scaring the nice man and go find out if they brought something of their missing kids’ with them.”

“Got it.”

Thomas didn’t have to move; Bård pushed his way back into the room and asked Harry, “Did you find them?”

“Not yet. Do you have something belonging to any of the missing children?”

Bård dug into his pocket and pulled out a loop of pink cloth. “It’s a hair band. My girl had it in her hair four days ago.” He handed it over to Harry, explaining, “Vegard’s trying to fix your daughter’s giant dog.”

Harry took the item soberly but did a double take. “How did you know that Maggie is my daughter? That's a secret no one outside this home knows.”

“Tenzing said so. He said some men came out of a van after they shot him and took her away.”

Harry raised a brow. “Who's Tenzing?”

Bård frowned. “I thought that was the name of the dog.”

“The dog told you this?”

“You’re a wizard. I assumed he was a magic dog. He survived being hit by a garbage truck, after all."

"He was hit by a garbage truck?"

"That's what he said."

Calle asked softly, "Are garbage trucks commonly used as weapons in Chicago?"

Thomas grunted, "Only when I'm around."

Harry asked Bård, "Did Mouse say anything else to you?"

"Mouse?"

"Uh... Tenzing."

Bård frowned. "Does Tenzing not usually speak?”

“No. We call him Mouse.”

“Ah.”

Harry glanced at Thomas and said, “But that’s what Uriel told us, that the kidnappers were men in a van."

"The men who took my daughter used some kind of spell."

"The kidnappers in Norway were magic users?”

“Your daughter Molly thinks so.”

"Molly isn't my daughter."

"She said she was Maggie's sister."

"I'll draw a family tree later. Come here."

Bård approached the table and looked down at the maps on its surface. There were maps of Chicago, the state, North America and the world. He folded his arms and said, “The kidnappers popped out of the ground, grabbed the children and sank back down without a trace.”

Thomas asked, “Is that possible?”

Harry shook his head. “Without a trace? That would be a tough spell. More likely it was a simple illusion spell.”

Bård asked, “How do we find them?”

“Fortunately, finding lost people and items is my particular specialty.” Harry quietly introduced Bård to the others and turned back to the maps and concentrated. Calle didn’t catch the names.

Several minutes later Vegard emerged from the kitchen, wolfing down a plain American white bread sandwich. He sidled up next to Calle and softly announced around a mouthful of food, “Healed the dog." His breath smelled of bacon.

"Good job."

"Got this out of him." Vegard dug into his pocket and handed him an enormous deformed bullet.

Calle whispered, “Helvete, what is this, 14 or 15mm caliber?"

"It's a big dog."

"This looks like something you'd use on a tank."

"It's a very big dog."

"What did he tell you?”

Vegard frowned. “Who?”

“The dog? What did it tell you?”

“It’s a dog, Calle. _Dog goes woof.”_

“But...”

“What’s Bård doing?”

Calle pointed to the people gathered around the table. “They’re trying to track Nora.”

“Who are the others?”

“I don’t know.”

Vegard swallowed a biteful of his sandwich and said, “Molly got another phone call in the kitchen; she said it was more people reporting in missing children. She said it was weird because it's only been human children, all aged about eleven. No fairies, vampires or friendly monsters are missing children.”

“Fairies, vampires or friendly monsters?”

Vegard shrugged and swallowed the last of his sandwich. “That’s what she said. I’ll be right back; I need more food. Healing makes me hungry.”

Calle made a face. "How can you eat that disgusting squishy bread?"

"Molly said the white bread is almost pure sugar."

“ _Æsj."_

"Fast energy.  Simple physiology.  It's really interesting, actually, the way glucose is absorbed into the body, because-"

Calle cut him off.  "So when exactly did you get this doctor magic, anyway?”

Vegard shrugged. “I’ve been working on it the last few months. I've never tried healing a dog before. I’ve done a few birds, a cat and a goose. And some of my own injuries.   And Bård, obviously.”

“You’re a man of unusual talents, Vegard.”

“Bård can make things explode."

"Typical."

_"Ja._ Want a sandwich?”

"I would rather pull off my own head."

"Okay."

Calle shook his head and Vegard headed back into the kitchen. Then Calle caught Thomas licking his lips at him, so he resolutely stared back at him; a blank stare was Calle’s first line of defense against people trying to rattle his nerves. Thomas finally smiled and ducked his head in defeat as his cell phone rang. He activated it and turned away towards a wall.

Harry said suddenly, “Looks like whoever took your daughter… what's her name?”

“Nora.”

“…Nora popped up in Egypt after leaving Norway. Gone now.”

“Egypt?!"

"Giza."

"How is that possible?”

“Giza is a big thoroughfare. They’re probably jumping between gateways.”

"Gateways?"

Harry waved his hand and said, "Cliff's notes magic history:  In the olden days there weren't a lot of people, and when people built structures like the pyramids they'd occasionally fall into the Nevernever. No one knew how to jump between dimensions, but it took a long time to erect monuments like the pyramids. By the time they were finished, there was enough emotion and will and life and death poured into building them to weaken the barrier between the worlds. The bigger the structure, the easier it was to pass between here and the Nevernever."

“Nevernever?”

Harry muttered impatiently, “The Nevernever is a bit like the underworld. Sort of. It’s like another dimension right up against our own where all the magic and mythological stuff hangs out.” Harry pointed at the large map of Chicago. “Luckily we don't need pyramids any more; there are enough people and history in cities for us to make the jump easily. Aha!." Harry pointed. "Maggie dropped off the radar in Wilmette near the Baha'i Temple and hasn’t popped back into our world yet. The temple isn’t too far from here. But that seals the deal.  I'm sure she was taken into the Ways. If I remember right I think the ley line near the Ba'hai temple leads to a major crossroads in the Nevernever.”

The older man nodded solemnly. “Then that’s where we're headed."

Harry said, "No, that's where _I'm_ headed."

"She's my daughter too, Harry."

"Yeah, but someone needs to be here to protect the rest of your kids."

"You think I'll slow you down."

"Yeah, I do.  Sorry."

The man sighed. "I don't know if I can just sit here."

"Trust me again, Michael. I'll get her back."

The woman said, "I’m going to armor up.”

Harry hesitated and then nodded his head.  "Okay. I expect I can't stop _both_ of you from going with me."

Charity grunted, "No you can't."  She seemed to notice Calle for the first time. “You missing a child too?”

Calle shook his head and pointed at Bård. “Here to help him.”

Harry said suddenly, “Sorry. Michael, Charity, I should have made introductions. You met Bård. His brother Vegard is in the kitchen working on Mouse."

Bård said absently, "The dog is already healed."

Harry said, "They're the brothers that killed the Midgard Serpent."

The woman, presumably Charity, gave a tense smile of recognition. "Molly wouldn't stop talking about your book."

Bård nodded, but his attention was fixed on the maps on the table.

Harry pointed to Calle and said, "Calle over there is their muggle sidekick and the giant man being inconspicuous is the hired muscle."

Calle frowned, offended. "Did you just call me a muggle?"

Romeo cleared his throat and Calle jumped. Romeo shrugged apologetically. "Didn't mean to startle you."

Calle waved his hand. "No, I just forgot you were standing there."

"Sorry about that."

Romeo stepped forward to shake the older man's hand. "Actually, sir, I'm Agent Romeo Reid. FBI, Supernatural Investigations. I've read your files. I'm a big fan. I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances."

The room went silent and the group around the table gaped at Romeo.

Michael Carpenter shifted his cane to his left hand. He extended his right to shake Romeo's hand. "I'm glad to have your help, Agent Reid."

"I appreciate your willingness to have me."

"If you got past Uriel I know I can trust you."

"Thank you."

Harry finally said, "You're the FBI's Internal Practitioner?"

"There's more than one."

Harry grimaced.  "Well that's not terrifying at all. I didn't get even a hint of power off of you.  How do you mask it?"

"Being sneaky is my specialty."

"Does the Council know about you?"

"Of course. The FBI sends them quarterly reports."

Harry scowled. "No one tells me anything. What kind of magic?"

"Kinetic. Shields."

"Shields?! Why didn't you shield everyone on Friday when the sewer demon blew up?"

Romeo arched a brow. "I did. That's why there were no bystander fatalities when _someone_ threw a _fireball_ at a sewer demon."

"Ah." Harry cringed and turned to peer into a duffel bag. He made a show of rooting around inside it.

Thomas frowned. "But why are you working as a bodyguard?"

Romeo glanced at Calle guiltily but said, "I'm not, exactly. I was assigned to assist the Ylvisåker brothers while they were in Chicago."

Harry muttered, "Assist or spy on?"

"Assist. But I've been reassigned to the kidnappings, including Maggie Carpenter and Nora Ylvisåker's cases. The FBI has a lot of experience with missing persons."

Romeo pointed to his earpiece and said, "On the way over here I asked my office to do a sweep for similar cases. We've got four other kidnappings so far that match the MO: preadolescent child of a practitioner taken in the last 24 hours."

Michael asked, "From where?"

"Two in New York, one from Dallas and another near San Jose. I'm waiting to hear back from Canadian operations." Romeo glanced at Calle again and said, "I didn't intend to mislead you. I thought you knew I was FBI."

Harry scowled at Romeo and said, "Michael here works for Jesus. Jesus doesn't like people who lie.”

Romeo arched a brow and folded his arms. "I know. I don't lie to Jesus.  I didn't lie to you.  You never asked."

Calle asked, “What do you mean by _works for Jesus_? Jesus Christ?”

Vegard re-entered the room with another sandwich and a can of generic soda marked "Cola" He asked, “Are you a priest?”

Calle studied Michael for the first time.  Michael Carpenter was a large man in his fifties, with greying brown hair, a short beard and friendly blue eyes. He solemnly offered his hand to Vegard, who stuffed his sandwich into his mouth to free his own hand to reciprocate.

Michael explained, “More like a soldier priest. Disabled in the line of duty.” He gave a brief smile and glanced at Romeo, “I do try to keep in touch with the Boss; He’s a great listener.”

Vegard turned towards Calle and rolled his eyes. He took another bite of his new sandwich and with a full mouth he leaned towards Calle and asked in Norwegian, "What did I miss?"

"Apparently Romeo's also a wizard.  The FBI has wizards.  Evidently."

Vegard paused for a moment and then shrugged and wolfed down his sandwich.  He popped open the can of cola and began chugging it down noisily.

Charity met eyes with her husband and then excused herself and left the room.

Bård said suddenly, “Harry, if you know where they are then let’s go get them now.”

The wizard was elbow-deep into his bag now, digging through the clanking equipment. He gritted out, “They took my daughter too, Bård, I’m as hot as you are to get going. Aha!" He pulled out a rumpled white cloth potato sack and peered inside it. "But there's a good chance this is some sort of trap and we’ll get massacred if we aren’t prepared.”

"A trap?"

Thomas put away his phone and said, "If someone is kidnapping children of human magic-users then it might be to either control or coerce the humans in some way."

Vegard swallowed the last of his soda and asked, "But why are they all the same age?"

Thomas sobered. "Preadolescents are useful in certain black magic spells. You know, virgin sacrifices."

The room went deathly silent.

Harry muttered, "Come on, now. No need to imagine the worst. What did your sister say, Thomas?"

Thomas answered, "She doesn't know anything about the kidnappings. She's checking to see if anyone in the family is missing a child."

"You think she's lying?"

"You know how she is. But I don't think she's lying about this. That doesn't rule out any other houses in the White Court."

Molly re-entered the room and added, "I called Mab; she says she doesn't know who's doing it either, but can't officially get the Winter fairies involved until you figure that out. She says if you go after them not to compromise her.”

Harry said sarcastically, "Oh, how wonderful and supportive she is. What about you?"

Molly glanced at her father and said, "What about me? I do what I want. Anyway, she said the Summer court might be contacting you about a changeling.  They might send someone."

Harry sighed. “Oh goody, another Marvel Team-Up.”

Molly turned to the brothers. “Here, I brought these for you two.  Make sure you look these over before we go." She had two shiny brochures in her hand and gave one to each of them.

Vegard looked down at the glossy brochure. It featured a close-up of Christopher Walken and was entitled, "So, You Want to Do Some Magic: Ten Rules for Doing Magic Safely and Legally."

Calle peered over Vegard's shoulder at the photo. "Is Christopher Walken a wizard too?"

Molly said, "Of course.  Haven't you seen him dance?"

Michael cleared his throat. "Molly, are you going to tell me why you would have contact information for the queen of the Winter fairies on your phone?"

"Later, Dad. I promise."

Michael sighed and said, "We may have lost Maggie today, Molly. I don't want to lose you too."

Molly hugged her father. "Don't worry. We'll get her back." Her phone rang and she turned away again, speaking softly as a tiny winged man flew in through a window and landed on Harry's shoulder.

Calle and Vegard met eyes. Calle muttered, "This is what it is like hanging out with you and Bård. I always know something weird is happening but really don't know what."

"I see what you mean."

A very short, slim white man in his thirties with a shock of dark hair and round glasses charged into the room and stopped short. He was wearing a backpack that was almost as big as he was. He marched up to Harry and said, "Where is he?"

"Mouse is in the kitchen. But he fixed him already." He pointed at Vegard.

The man turned to peer at Vegard. "Are you a doctor too?"

"No."

"Medic?"

"No. I'm in show business."

"Huh?"

Molly turned back to the group and called out, "Summer says something's been taking over the old Red Court temples. They think it might be connected."

Harry held up a hand and said to the little man, "What do you have with you?"

"Everything and everyone. Let's go get her." The man turned around suddenly and said, "I don't like folks who veil themselves."

Romeo pushed himself off the wall. "Sorry. Was trying to not distract you."

Calle jumped. "Romeo! I forgot you were there."

The little man snorted. "I'm sure you did. He's wearing an overlook veil."

Calle frowned. "Then how can _you_ see him?"

"Practice. You a muggle?"

Calle sighed. "I'm not a muggle. I'm a Norwegian."

"Whatever."

"Okay." Harry murmured something to the winged fairy and it jumped off his shoulder and flew back out the window. Harry turned and addressed the room. "Everybody go to the potty now, and then we leave. I don't want to have to stop on the way."

The newcomer said, "I already went. I don't think we should bring muggles with us, Harry."

Bård blinked, noticing the newcomer for the first time, "Are you talking about us?"

The doctor glared up at Bård and asked, "You do magic?"

Bård frowned down at the diminutive man and said, "Yes? Who are you?"

The little man said, "I’m _fucking Batman._ Who the hell are you?"

From the table, Michael said, "Language."

Bård sucked in a breath and met eyes with his brother. "I'm _fucking Ylvis_."

Vegard nodded and soberly bumped fists with his brother.

Calle muttered, "That sounded wrong."

Michael sighed. "Language."

The doorbell rang and Romeo said, "That will be for me."

Calle startled. "I forgot you were there again."

"Sorry."

As he turned to answer the door, Romeo added, "I ordered us some gear and a car to get us over to the Temple. We can't go to the Nevernever in these clothes."

Bård nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

Harry clapped his hands together and said grimly. "Chop chop, people. We leave in five!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. But his chapter got re-edited 20 times. In my mind the challenge was: Keep a really dramatic and serious chapter about a parent's terror for his child fast-paced and occasionally even funny. How'd I do?


	16. Through the Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a squirrel called Freckle. Bård gets a gun. Everyone is going somewhere weird.

Right before the sky went black, Jonas Andresen had been sitting on the mown lawn behind the house, feeding some table scraps to a squirrel. The squirrels near the farm were very tame, probably because his mother wouldn't allow cats, foxes, snakes or any other kind of predator on their land. If any wandered out of the forest adjacent to their home his mother would either invite them to leave or take them to a shelter. She said she didn't want to worry over her rabbits and goats, and she seemed happy enough to give sanctuary to the more gentle critters most people thought of as pests.

The squirrel he'd been feeding was a particular favorite of his this year, a young little red doe he called Fregne that had a penchant for his mother's nut bread and butter. Fregne sat on his lap, hungrily devouring a chunk of bread while chirping enthusiastic appreciation for the treat.

Only a few meters away, his sister Honey and "cousin" Nora were sitting on a blanket, weaving little crowns out of the longer grasses that bordered his mother's flower garden. As they decorated their creations with colored strings and beads they chatted about Harry Potter, arguing whether Honey's English version was better than the Norwegian translation Nora preferred. But Jonas wasn't interested in fiction. He liked to spend his independent time watching birds through his binoculars or bacteria through his mother's microscope. Real life biology was far more amazing than some fantasy book.

He glanced at the girls. Honey was leaning forward now, carefully placing a completed grass headdress covered with sparkling pink beads onto Nora's hair.

The sky was clear and blue and Nora's amber hair shone in the sunlight. Jonas sighed. With the delicate circlet on her head Nora looked like a fairy princess. He was so lucky to know her. And these summer days with her had been heaven, even if she didn't really talk to him.

Nora adjusted the crown and turned toward Jonas, catching him staring. She tilted her head and said, "Well? How do I look?"

Jonas blurted, "Good!" and his face immediately began to burn. He resolutely turned his attention back to Fregne, who was now standing on her little hind legs, resting a paw on his hand and looking at him hopefully. He pulled out another piece of nut bread out of the pocket of his hoodie and cringed at the girls' giggles.

That's when the sky went black. Pitch black.

Fregne ran up his arm and onto his shoulder, agitated and barking her distress. He put a reassuring hand on her back to quiet her as he stood. He knew his mother would be worried, but his first instinct was to move toward the girls. That had always been his job; watching over all the younger kids. Over this last year, more than ever.

He called out, "Honey? Nora?"

Nora answered, "We're here. What's happening?"

"I don't know." He turned back toward the house where their mothers had been sitting and called out, "Mamma? Are you there?"

A voice behind him said, "Not so loud."

"Uncle Vegard?" Wasn't Vegard in the USA? Jonas dug into his pocket and pulled out the little flashlight he kept there. He switched it on and found the girls; they were still sitting on the blanket but were pressed together, holding hands fearfully. He quickly stepped toward them and grabbed Honey's hand. Then he cast the beam back toward the voice of his uncle.

Vegard stepped into the light, dressed in a Home Guard uniform, holding a rifle at the ready. He looked terrible; he had a split lip, a black eye and his face was smeared with dirt. He squinted into the light and said, "I've come to get you. I'm going to take you somewhere safe. Turn off that light."

To Jonas's right, Nora asked, "Are the wolves attacking again?"

"They are. But don't be afraid. We'll get you to safety." Vegard motioned to the two soldiers behind him. Jonas hadn't seen either of them before, but they both looked Norwegian. Tall and blond.

Fregne chittered softly. The little squirrel had crawled into the hood of Jonas's hoodie and now rested her front paws on his shoulder, her ear tufts tickling his earlobe. She was suspicious of the soldiers, at least more than she was suspicious of any humans outside the farm, but she wasn't terribly afraid. That worried Jonas. Surely if a monster attack were imminent she would be frightened, not just skeptical. Something wasn't right.

Nora cried out, and Jonas whirled towards her voice. In the dim light he could see her pulling away from one of the soldiers who'd grabbed hold of her arm. Jonas leapt to her side. "Don't hurt her!"

Vegard shushed him and wrested away the flashlight. He clicked it off and said, "We aren't going to hurt any of you. Don't be stupid. Come on, there isn't much time."

Jonas blinked into the darkness towards Nora, but he couldn't see a thing. And then the sounds of the insects and wind muffled suddenly. As if Jonas had put his hands over his ears. What was happening?

Honey made a worried sound and Jonas guiltily realized he'd let go of her hand to get to Nora. He said softly towards her voice, "I'm here, Honey, don't be scared."

Honey asked, "What about Mamma and Auntie Maria and Hel-?"

Vegard interrupted, "They're already leaving out of the front of the house. We'll meet up with them. Time to go."

Jonas said, "But I don't hear-"

"Be quiet. We don't want to attract attention. Stay together."

Vegard grabbed hold of Jonas's upper arm, a little too tightly, and guided him into the wild grasses away from the house and, from the feel of the ground, into the forest. Fregne had burrowed into Jonas's hood and when he pulled it up to cover his head he could feel the squirrel cuddling motionless against the back of his neck. Now she was scared. And that scared Jonas.

Jonas wondered how Vegard and the other soldiers were able to see in the darkness, and how they were navigating the uneven ground in the forest. And then suddenly there was a door before them. Through it he could see a wide circular stone plaza in a sunny field, and beyond that a lush deciduous forest. He asked, "Is this magic?"

Vegard nodded. "Yes it is. You go through with my friends Jan and Ole here. I'm going back to help Bård fight the wolves." And then he was gone.

Jonas looked back towards his home. All he could see was a too-dark black fog. The only light was the sunlight shining through the portal. He swallowed heavily and met eyes with his sister and Nora, both looking back at him fearfully. He reached for their hands and said, "No matter what, we stay together. Okay?"

The girls both nodded and squeezed his hands. Even Nora did. Jonas gulped. He tried not to think about how soft the skin on her hand was. He could almost hear his mother admonishing him with her usual: _"Prioritize!"_

Jonas glanced at the two unfamiliar soldiers. They were both holding rifles. They didn't look very friendly. Jonas felt Fresne nibble the back of his neck. He had to keep her safe as well.

More for his own benefit than for the girls', Jonas said softly, "Stay calm. Be alert." The three children stepped through the portal together.

 

* * *

 

It was almost ten o'clock when Romeo's SUV pulled into a parking space near the towering Baha'i Temple. As he got out of the car, Vegard couldn't keep from whistling as he looked up at the enormous building. He figured it must be at least 40 meters high. It had nine identical sides, worked with lacey latticework, leading up to a dome, also worked with intricate carvings. The stonework was white, blindingly white in the morning sun. Each side of the building had a pathway leading up to it, with gardens and fountains alongside.

Bård came up alongside him. "It's a temple. I wonder what religion it's for."

"Religion is a stupid waste of time and resources."

Bård frowned impatiently. "Okay. It's a bit like the Taj Mahal."

"Much smaller.”

_“Ja da."_

Vegard sighed. "But it's hard to believe they'd let kidnappers with a little girl through a serene place like this."

Bård nodded grimly.

Harry got out of the SUV and said, "They probably didn't go into the temple. This is near enough." He shrugged into his long leather coat. "This is a crossover point to the Nevernever. There's a crossroads like this there. No thresholds. No defenses. Very serene and peaceful."

Bård grimaced. "Peaceful? I thought we were going to some sort of hell."

"Nah." He waved the Carpenters' van pulled up beside theirs. "The Nevernever is filled with scary stuff, but it isn't hell. Well, what you might think of as _Hell_ is in there, that’s a neighborhood I wouldn’t visit. But there’s nice stuff too. It's just... full of weird things. Luckily I know my way around there pretty well. How about you?" He raised a brow at Romeo, who was wearing what looked like a SWAT team uniform, complete with a dark helmet with a night vision attachment.

Romeo shook his head. "I don't go there often enough feel confident leading. But I trust a warden to know his way."

Harry nodded at the compliment. "Okay. Don't get separated from the tour."

"10-4."

Harry glanced at Calle. "Last chance to back out. It's all in from here. Most vanillas don't particularly like where we're going."

Calle gulped, "Vanillas?"

"Muggles."

Calle frowned at Harry, annoyed. "No, I'm coming with you. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try to help."

Vegard clapped Calle on the shoulder. "All for one and one for all."

Calle nodded grimly. "Just like Tokyo. Are you okay with all that gear, Bård?"

_"Ja."_

Vegard inspected Bård's gear critically. Romeo's team had brought them all black tactical boots, dark grey trousers, long-sleeved shirts and kevlar vests. They'd all been issued a military knife as well as a firearm. Although Vegard and Calle had opted for M4 rifles, Bård had taken a semiautomatic pistol. He'd been introduced to the things on their adventure in Canada and had practiced with a Glock when they'd visited Bjarte in the States last year. Vegard didn't think Bård was particularly accomplished with the weapon, but it seemed to make Bård feel a bit better, so he hadn't objected. He just hoped Bård wouldn't accidentally shoot someone friendly.

Romeo inspected the three Norwegians and said, "Magic can sometimes mess with weapons. These have got wards on them to shield the insides, but if your guns jam there will be no point in struggling with them, they'll be plain broken. Just drop them and move on."

Vegard nodded and checked his weapon. It was loaded and ready. He hoped he wouldn't have to shoot anyone. Or any _thing._

Molly was the first out of the van; she had changed into a grey tracksuit with grey hiking shoes and had a small grey duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Doctor Batman was next, pulling out his oversized backpack and shrugging into it.

Thomas gracefully jumped out of the van next, wearing a curved short blade on his left hip. He had a sawed-off shotgun strapped to his back. Otherwise he was only wearing a white hoodie, dark jeans and work boots. 

The entire van shook as an enormous grey Tibetan mastiff lumbered out of the van next.  When it hit the sidewalk, the van bounced upwards so violently that one of the van's wheels left the ground. Calle squeaked as the mammoth dog galloped towards them, wagging its tail, but he sighed with relief when the dog stopped short and  gently headbutted Vegard's chest. Vegard smiled and rubbed its ears. "Calle, this is Mouse. We're buddies now because I fixed his gunshot wounds."

Calle raised a brow. "No wonder you were hungry. Was he this big before?"

"Yes."

Bård patted the dog on the shoulder. "He's coming with us. He's Harry's daughter's dog. He can smell Maggie was here, can't you, boy?"

The dog chuffed.

Harry looked up. "When we get to the other side we'll have him track your daughter as well, Bård."

Bård nodded. "I know. Thanks."

The last to exit the van was the handsome middle-aged woman from the house, Charity. Like her daughter Molly, she looked Swedish. And although her blond hair was streaked with grey, she was broad shouldered and covered with body armor and chainmail. She wore a short sword at her left hip and rested a meter-and-a-half long warhammer on her right shoulder. She looked like a Viking warrior. Vegard decided it would probably be wise to stay on her good side.

Molly groaned. "Mother, for the last time, please let me and Harry take care of this."

Charity grunted. "No one takes one of my children. No one. And I'm not going to sit in the panic room while there's a chance I can help. Your father is guarding the family."

Molly muttered to Calle, "My mother. Maggie's adopted mom."

Harry nodded. "I'm glad to have you with us, Charity."

She answered, "What's your plan, Harry?"

"Go in blind, hope we can handle whatever ambushes us. Bring back the children. Don't get killed."

"That doesn't sound like much of a plan."

Thomas grunted, "It sounds like one of Harry's plans."

Charity sighed.  "You still don't know who's responsible?"

Harry checked the pockets of his leather duster and shook his head.  "No. But we don't think it's the Sidhe or the White Court. Which leaves the Black Court or some free agent. Or a human."

Charity frowned. "Whoever they are, they'll be sorry they took my daughter." She glanced at Bård. "Our daughters."

Bård nodded and stepped closer to Harry to ask a quiet question.

Vegard asked, "Are you Swedish? You and your daughter look a little bit Swedish."

Charity raised her chin. "I'm an American."

Calle elbowed Vegard and grunted, "Do not annoy the gigantic hammer mamma."

"Okay."

Charity looked Vegard up and down and sighed. "A rifle may not be much use where we're going."

Vegard replied, "That's okay. My brother and I don't really need guns. We make our own attacks."

Charity nodded and glanced at Molly. "Molly's told me about your book. I hope you can be as effective today as you were in Tokyo."

"Yes, ma'am."

Harry cleared his throat and said, "Everyone hold hands when we step through. Remember the rules I gave you: Don’t take anything from anyone. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t eat or drink anything you didn’t take with you. Don’t step away from the paths we take. Don’t do magic if you can help it. Do not kill any humans. Okay. Here we go." Harry paused a moment and muttered something under his breath.

Vegard sucked in a breath as a vertical tear in the air formed in front of Harry, near the closest end of one of the pools flanking the temple. It was a magic portal. Just like the ones the brothers used to make when they played World of Warcraft when they were younger.  And it looked like it was nighttime on the other side of the conjured portal.  That was pretty cool.

Vegard took Calle's hand in his right and held out his left to Bård. "Come on, Ylvis."

Bård took his hand and grunted unenthusiastically, _"Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers."_

As they stepped through the tear in space, Molly's mother muttered, "Language, gentlemen."

 

* * *


	17. The Nevernever kind of sucks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ylvis and Co. enter the Nevernever. It kind of sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***For those of you that skipped "Ylvis 2: Ylvis vs Godzilla" in favor of more traditional tales, or don't know any of the Dresden stories, I have to warn you that the story is about to get pretty darn weird. But in for a penny, in for a pound; I've written myself into this corner and I refuse to Deus Ex Machina out of it. For now. Hopefully you'll get a few giggles yourself and still recognize the brothers' personalities amidst all the magical wackiness. 
> 
> I realize this chapter probably should have been three separate chapters, but I haven't posted for a while so I hope this long chapter makes up a bit for that. :-)
> 
> ***

* * *

Vegard's skin tingled with static electricity as they stepped through the portal and when he took in his first breath of the night air of the Nevernever a chill washed through his chest like icy lemonade on a hot day. Almost refreshing. But the cold abruptly swept over his skin and body and inundated him with images and voices and sounds. He tore his hands away from Bård and Calle and clapped them over his ears. The noise crescendoed until he was sure his ears were bleeding from the sound. He fell to his knees, curling around himself.  Surely his body would be pulped by the sonic blasts hammering against him.

_Vegard!_

He could hear Bård over the tumult. _Fy faen,_ he'd let Bård's hand go. It was like one of his nightmares; he'd let go of Bård's hand and now his brother was lost somewhere in this storm of light and noise. He fumbled around blindly and called out, "Bård?" Where are you?

And just like that, the sound and light were gone. His ears weren't even ringing. Maybe he was deaf now.

Bård's forehead pressed against his own, and Bård's hands were warm against Vegard's ears and neck.

_Vegard? What's wrong?_

Vegard blinked his streaming eyes. Bård's eyes, only centimeters from his own, looked silver in the moonlight. That was cool.

Vegard cleared his throat and said quietly, " _Ka i honen?"_    He sighed with relief;  he could hear himself. He wasn't deaf. 

Bård asked out loud, "Vegard?"

Harry stood beside them. He asked softly, "Your shield went off, totally solid for a moment.  Were you attacked?"

"I heard... I saw everyone and everything, all at once."

Molly asked gently, "What do you hear now? Can you hear my thoughts now?"

Vegard wasn't sure if she'd spoken out loud, but he answered, "Not now. But for a moment I could hear everyone here. You and Bård and Calle and..." The hairs on the back of Vegard's neck stood at attention. He pulled back from Bård and looked around frantically.

Romeo appeared behind them (startling Calle) and whispered, "What is it?"

Bård frowned at Romeo and his hands fell to Vegard's shoulders, keeping only a thumb against Vegard's skin.  

Vegard pointed, "Someone's over there. In those trees."

"How many?"

"Three, I think."

Romeo nodded at Harry.

Harry held his staff out and turned toward the stand of trees and called out, "Show yourselves!"

There was no answer.

Harry glanced at Molly and called out, louder, "Oh come on out, we're in a hurry!"

From the trees stepped two humans: a tall young woman with dark hair as curly as Vegard’s, and a bald black man in his late twenties about Vegard's size. They were both wearing grey capes and swords although the man was wearing an soldier's kit. The woman was wearing chain mail. They both looked over the group suspiciously. Vegard saw the woman look at Bård with appreciation. Typical.

Another chill swept over him, and he reflexively pressed forward against his brother. Bård's left hand tightened around his shoulders to steady him.

 _B: What's happening to you?_  
_V: I'm fine_  
_B: You're definitely not fine._  
_V: Just give me a few seconds._

Bård blew out a breath and let go. Vegard had braced for the usual jolt of separation from his brother, but this time he felt like Bård had just punched him in the chest. _Helvete._ Vegard gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet. No need for Bård to know. But he was still cold. The armored vest he was wearing didn't have pockets for his hands. He shivered again and warmed his hands under his armpits.

Bård's hand returned casually to his shoulder, steadying him.

Vegard glanced around as he caught his breath. The group had landed in a deserted grassy park on a circular cobblestone sidewalk. Footpaths radiated in every direction and the well-worn stones shone dully between the leaves of stubby plants that grew between them. Although it was night here, there was enough moonlight to see at least ten meters in every direction. Each of the radiating footpaths disappeared into dense shrubbery and stands of short, flat-topped trees that reminded him of African umbrella acacia trees. He took in another deep breath. The air smelled of wet earth, chopped cilantro and mint leaves. Very fresh. Clean. Weird. Not what he'd expect in a hell realm. Maybe this wasn't going to be as terrifying as he'd expected.

He watched the two strangers moving towards Harry. The woman's silvery cloak floated behind her, ripples of fabric creeping down the edge like waves in honey. Time had slowed. Did his mark detect some danger he couldn't see?  Or was Bård responsible?

Vegard looked up. The moon hung overhead or... was that the moon? It was partially covered with cumulus clouds... still... the shadow pattern looked wrong. He couldn't make out many stars... they looked wrong. No, of course, they were right. For the Southern hemisphere. Weren't they? Was the Southern Hemisphere particularly magical? That would be a little disappointing. He had a definite bias toward all things at or north of the 60th parallel. He bent over at the waist and squinted up at the moon under his arm.

Bård's hand clamped around his wrist and yanked him up.

 _B: What are you doing?_  
_V: Looking at the moon._  
_B: Why?_  
_V: It's upside down._  
_B: You look ridiculous._  
_V: I think we must be in the Southern Hemisphere._  
_B: How did you know they were there?_  
_V: Who?_  
_B: The people in the trees._  
_V: I just did. Usually I have to work harder to sense other people or animals._  
_B: Why would you want to do that?_  
_V: Just trying to keep tabs on... everyone._  
_B: Fy faen._  
_V: I have to keep track of you Bård._  
_B: ...Jesus Christ, Vegard. I'm a grown man._  
_V: You aren't careful._  
_B: I don't trust Romeo._  
_V: Hæ?_  
_B: Romeo. He's sneaky._  
_V: He's okay._  
_B: I keep forgetting he's there. I don't like that._  
_V: He's backing us up._  
_B: Are these new two people friends or enemies?_  
_V: I don't know. Harry doesn't seem worried. The woman has a little heartburn._  
_B: She looks Brazilian._  
_V: She wants you._  
_B: For what?_  
_V: For sex._  
_B: She has poor taste. What about the man? He looks like a soldier._  
_V: I think he's wearing an American kit._  
_B: So a soldier._  
_V: They’re wearing capes and swords. I understand they don't trust guns around magic but why capes?_  
_B: Capes are cool. Intimidating._  
_V: Coats are so much more practical._  
_B: You do not have even one romantic bone in your body._  
_V: Capes let in the cold too easily._  
_B: I want a cape._  
_V: Don’t be ridiculous._  
_B: I’m definitely getting a big fur cape. I'll wear it everywhere._  
_V: That would be silly._  
_B: With the head still attached. A big goat head lolling around._  
_V: ..._  
_B: Made you laugh._  
_V: Ja._  
_B: So snap out of it._  
_V: I'm trying. It's all very distracting._  
_B: So you feel different?_  
_V: I'm okay. Everything else feels different._  
_B: Just okay? I feel really good. Physically, I mean. I'm still angry as hell about Nora and Sif and her kids..._  
_V: Of course. Me too._  
_B: But I feel like I could take on Satan himself._  
_V: ...okay._  
_B: I feel like I could run for days._  
_V: ...okay._  
_B: I have a monkey in my pants, Vegard._  
_V: ...okay._  
_B: Jesus Christ. Stop looking at the moon!_

Vegard turned his attention back to the newcomers. A few meters behind the woman stood a grey cat that was at least a meter tall at the shoulder. Was that the third being he'd sensed before? He couldn't sense it now.

The cat was sturdy, with a head like a tiger, but had pointed ears with little tufts at the ends like a lynx. Surely a lynx would be covered with spots in the summer? Vegard decided it was an oversized lynx, but all grey with a white beard. Vegard wondered if it was actually grey or just looked that way in the probably-upside-down-moonlight.

Bård let go of his brother's hand with a soft grunt of disgust, and time sped up to normal again. Vegard tightened his abdomen and rode the wave of pain from the sudden break from his brother.  He could bear it, but after they'd found Nora he would have to talk to Bård about it. And he didn't feel too confused by it. He could still sense Bård beside him; he was impatient and sick with worry. Vegard sighed, pushing down his own anxiety. Stay focused.

The lynx blinked its icy pale eyes at Vegard for a long moment. Vegard stared back. The cat's eyes reminded him of Sif's.  And pupils were round, like a human's.

The cat abruptly turned its attention to Mouse. The huge dog growled low; Vegard could feel the rumbling bass of its voice in his stomach. The dog was not happy.

The latina woman said, "Warden Dresden. Please tell me you aren't the one kidnapping children."

Harry leaned on his staff and said casually, "Warden Luccio. Of course I'm not kidnapping children. I'm here tracking down some children that were taken."

Luccio nodded grimly. "Same here."

“If I weren't on a mission I'd say you look fantastic.”

Luccio rolled her eyes. “Not now, Harry.” She nodded her head at Romeo. "Agent Reid."

Romeo dipped his head and replied, "Warden Luccio."

Harry did a double take and asked, "Seriously?"

Luccio frowned. "What's the problem? I met Agent Reid on a Council mission last year."

"Why didn't anyone tell me the White Council works with the FBI?"

"You need to read your briefings, Dresden."

Harry grunted, "I hate paperwork." He nodded at the big lynx and asked softly, “How did you manage to get a malk to help you?”

The cat sniffed and began licking its paw.

Luccio shook her head. “The malk isn’t with me. He's a scout. He said he has an interest in what we are doing.”

“And what _are_ you doing?”

The younger man said, "We're expecting someone to come through here any moment with a kidnapped child. We were setting up an ambush. Which you are ruining."

Luccio gestured to her companion. "Warden Jones, Cincinnati. Warden Dresden, Chicago.”

The two men nodded to each other.

She continued. “Jones is right. If you can get your group out of sight you can help us ambush the kidnappers."

"Love to." Dresden waved his group forward.

As they moved toward the trees, the woman glanced at Vegard and leaned in to ask Harry a question. That was probably bad. Vegard grabbed Bård's hand again.

 _V: We're safer here if we stay linked like this._  
_B: I needed a break from your idiocy._  
_V: But you're right, I do feel different. More connected to everything._  
_B: Are you connected to the big cat?_  
_V: I don't know. But it's interesting._  
_B: No cats are interesting. They are all boring. That's why they like you so much._  
_V: You don't think a giant tame lynx isn't interesting? Maybe it's magical? Like the dog?_  
_B: If it is magical then it is up to something sneaky. At least you can trust a dog to be honest._  
_V: ..._  
_B: What?_  
_V: Have you been able to talk to dogs all these years?_  
_B: Nei, I told you, you're just gullible._  
_V: That would be an amazing gift._  
_B: Stop. Focus. You're worse than usual._  
_V: I am not._  
_B: Focus. This is a rescue mission. Details later._  
_V: ...you're right._  
_B: Of course I'm right._  
_V: ...I'm not going to carry this rifle. I don't trust it._  
_B: You won't need it if you're with me. I'll give you my pistol if we get separated._  
_V: Takk._  
_B: Ja. Focus._  
_V: Ja._

The group crouched in the shadows, and after only a few minutes a new tear appeared in the air over the crossroads. The sky beyond was a red-orange of dawn or sunset, and at least three dozen men wearing black combat gear stepped through. In the middle of the group were three bigger men, each holding a bundle about the size and shape of a limp child over his shoulder.

 _B: Are those children alive?_  
_V: I don't know._  
_B: Three kids. Might be ours._  
_V: Ja._

Harry held up a hand and breathed toward the caped woman, “I’ll get the left child. Thomas, you’re with me. Luccio, Jones and Rasta-man, get the right."

Romeo raised a brow in amusement but nodded.

Harry pointed at Dr. Batman and Charity and said, "You take the middle with the Ylvis here. Let them take point. Mouse, Molly, you guard and veil the children once we’ve got them."

Mouse chuffed a soft response.

The strangers followed one of the footpaths towards the group hiding in the shrubbery. When they got within several meters of their hiding spot, Warden Luccio stood abruptly and walked confidently into the open. She called out, "Stop, in the name of the White Council. Put down your captives and surrender peacefully."

Bård whispered, “What do we do?”

Harry said, “Defeat the monsters. Try not to kill the humans.”

“Which ones are the humans?”

The strangers in black gear chose that moment to act. Their heads split open into four sections, each blossoming into a tree-like branch that released a cloud of black flying creatures.  

 _V: Those are not the humans._  
_B: I see that now._

Harry leapt to his feet and shouted, "Avengers, assemble!"

The group hesitated in confusion. Harry waved his hands forward and shouted, "Fight! Time to fight! Go already!"

Bård and Vegard clasped their hands tightly together and belted out a tritone. A sphere of blue electricity exploded outward, popping the thousands of swarming flies or bees or whatever they were into little crisps, filling the air with the smell of ozone and burnt hair. Ylvis shifted keys and blew out an energy shield, strong enough to knock the three men and the dozen of the man-shaped-but-definitely-not-human creatures onto their backsides, hopefully not enough to hurt their captives. The human in the middle dropped his bundle. It rolled away and lay worryingly still.

Ylvis sucked in another breath and roared music and power and light. They were not going to let the kidnappers escape.

 

* * *

 

When the brothers' giant ball of sparking blue fire neutralized the insect swarm, Harry blinked at the brothers for a startled moment. He quickly recovered and cried out, _"Fuego!"_ A blast of fire shot from his staff, rendering the closest of the kidnapper-insect-man-things into a smoking ruin.

Calle wondered, not for the first time, if he actually belonged with Ylvis in this fight. No, of course he didn't. He belonged at home with the normal people. Oh well.  Fuck it; some things couldn't be helped.

The others drew their various weapons and plunged towards the kidnappers after Ylvis, Warden Jones bringing up the rear shouting, "Go go go!" He ran right past Calle as if he weren't there.

So, as the others ran forward, Calle walked slowly backward, flipping the safety off of his rifle. He watched Charity and Batman fight their way to where the still bundle lay, expertly swinging their battle hammer and glowing sword, respectively, at the creatures. Molly and the big dog had disappeared.

Thomas loped forward with unnatural speed, overtaking Harry, and blasted one of the creatures into woody splinters with his shotgun. He fired at a second, tossed away the gun and leapt onto another, lopping off its "head" with his curved blade.

Watching Thomas fell three of the things in as many seconds, Calle realized he was definitely outclassed. He fell back to where the giant cat still sat in the bushes and pulled his rifle up. He looked down the sight. Everyone was moving so quickly it was hard to pick a target. Romeo seemed to be throwing the monsters into the air and slamming them down with pressure waves. That was probably a handy trick.

Calle glanced at the giant cat. It was chittering at the battle like a frustrated housecat talking trash to a bird sitting out of reach. It was also ignoring him.

So Calle turned back to the battle and concentrated.

Ylvis ran forward holding hands, jumping and turning as they threw out electricity or protective shields or both. They had their teeth bared as they sang out, and Calle couldn’t tell if they were grinning or just being fierce. They fought their way steadily towards the man they'd knocked down and the child-shaped bundle on the ground. After a few moments Calle realized they were singing _“Dadadadada Boom! Dada Bam! Dumdum Pow!”_ to the tune of _Hall of the Mountain King_ , punctuating their song with electrical blasts. It was extremely annoying. Calle was scared for his life. Ylvis looked like they were having a fantastic time.

Calle cursed and dropped to one knee. He lifted his rifle, firing when he had a clear shot, trying not to think about whatever might be lurking in the dark trees behind him or the grey puma cat-thing sitting to his left. Evidently the cat had decided to sit out the fight and simply chitter. Cats. The whole situation was ridiculous.

He muttered to himself, "Come on, Carl Fredrik, you flew around on a giant turtle and fought a granite dragon. This is easy compared to that." He fired at the chest of one of the combatants, and from the light of one of Harry's fireballs Calle realized that he'd punched a hole all the way through in the thing's woody torso. But the creature was still fighting, punching down at Jones with clublike arms.  Jones was holding it off with his sword, but the thing was strong.

Beside him the giant cat said dryly, with a lisped but educated English accent, "Aim for the head _th_."

"I'm trying."

The cat sighed, and continued in its deep baritone, "The head i _th_ where the creature riding the gollum i _th_ _th_ itting."

Calle nodded. "Sure. And hello to you, Mister Talking Cat."

The cat sniffed. "I am a malk, not a cat."

Calle heard Jones yell for help. A second monster had joined the first, beating on Jones's upheld sword with a spiked fist. Jones dropped to his knees. Calle took aim and fired. He missed.

The cat tutted, "Do try to keep calm. And aim a little to the left."

"I don't want to hit the man with the sword."

"Then don't. Haven't you ever used a gun before? It i _th_ fairly _th_ traightforward, I'm told."

Calle gritted his teeth and steadied his aim. This time his bullet hit its mark.

The thing's head exploded in a cloud of splinters and the body toppled over. Jones stood, stepped over it and lunged toward his next target.

Calle muttered you're welcome and took aim at another monster. Missed. _Sa-tan._

The cat asked, "Can you do sound magic like your two brothers?"

"...No."

"Pity."

Calle followed two targets without getting a clear shot. “I don't think we are making progess. Are there more of these monsters than before?”

The cat let out a long-suffering sigh. “Obviou _th_ ly. The enemy is throwing dragon’ _th_ teeth. Do you not _th_ tudy Greek magic in Norway? ”

“No.” Calle squinted, held his breath and pulled the trigger. Got another one. “How do you know I’m from Norway?”

“Don’t be _th_ tupid.”

“Fine.”

“Shoot the one with the pitchfork arm. Ah. Mi _th_ ed again. Perhap _th_ you might be of more value a _th_ fodder?”

Calle frowned and took aim. His best shot was being blocked by Warden Luccio. He looked for another target. “Why aren’t _you_ fighting?”

“I don’t need to ex _th_ plain myself to an ill-bred… viking.”

Calle grimaced and fired again. Missed. _Helvete._ “You’re rude even for a cat.”

The cat swished its tail impatiently, saying, “I am not a cat, you dullard. Try again. A little farther to the left thi _th_ time."

Calle ground his teeth and aimed a bit more left. He pulled the trigger and hit his target. Maybe the creature was onto something.

As he reloaded his rifle, he could swear the cat was purring.

 

* * *

 

Vegard’s bubble flashed as another insect-producing monster sprang up from the ground, nearly knocking both brothers over.

Bård turned and threw his hand toward the creature, singing out, _“Boom!”_ A ball of sparks shot from his hand and hit the thing in its chest. It burst into flame. Bård punched the air. “Yes!”

Charity called out, “For every one that we kill two come back up!” She swung her war hammer and another monster fell into twitching pieces. Behind her, Dr. Batman was kneeling over a boy that he’d freed from one of the sacks. Vegard was disappointed.  It wasn't Jonas.

Harry backed away from the creatures, holding out his palm like a shield. Thomas leapt behind him with another child, a dark little girl, in his arms. Harry shouted, “Everyone to Butters. Bob Marley, shield Butters and the kids.”

 _B: Faen. Not our kids._  
_V: Did he say Butter?_  
_V: That’s what I heard._  
_B: Butter is an even more absurd name than Batman._  
_V: Doctor Batman is very absurd._  
_B: Watch out!_

Bård yanked his brother's arm hard to switch places with him and they sang out, _"BOOM!"_ The attacker disintegrated.

 _V: The offensive spells feel different._  
_B: They do. I've been holding back since Tokyo._  
_V: These monsters must be made of tinder. Watch out!_  
_B: Got it._  
_V: They’re so flammable._  
_B: Just the first ones._  
_V: You’re right; the new ones popping out of the ground are damp._  
_B: Of course I’m right. Where's Calle?_  
_V: He's sniping from the bushes. He's okay._  
_B: Good._

_BOOM!_

_B: This feels fantastic._  
_V: Ja da._  
_B: But I might run out of juice if we keep going like this._  
_V: I can't feel the spells getting weaker._  
_B: It's only logical._

_BOOM!_

As another creature disintegrated in crackling blue flame, Ylvis worked their way toward Doctor Butter, roaring out a variably dissonant duet as they blasted the creatures in their path. When they reached the center of the fight, they saw that the human kidnapper that had carried the first child was sprawled face down on the ground beside Doctor Butter, held down by thorned vines that emerged from the ground.  

 _B:  Hey, entangling roots._  
_V:  Oi oi oi oi... I don't like that._

In the time it took for Ylvis to get to the group, Charity had retrieved the other child, a dark-haired boy.  Moments after she laid the child on the ground, she, the children, Molly and Dr. Butter abruptly disappeared.

Harry yelled, "Molly, get those kids out of here!" He turned back toward their attackers and blasted another three into splinters.

Soon the group was fighting shoulder to shoulder against the growing tide of the muddy tree men. Although the first group had been disguised in human SWAT team clothing, the new creatures were naked and smeared with mud.

Jones shouted over the din of grunts and explosions and splintering monsters, “They’re Dragon’s Teeth. We have to get them all at once."

Luccio added, "There’s about ten seconds between killing one and its two replacements springing up.”

Harry thrust his hand outward and shouted _"Forzare!"_ Two of the creatures flew backward, unhurt. “How many do we have now?”

Jones swung his sword and connected with a particularly stubby and gnarled tree man.  It flew backwards but got up quickly to rejoin the fight. “Ninety-four. Now ninety-six.”

Romeo called out, “Eight of us counting Mouse.”

Vegard glanced backwards. The children and the others hadn't reappeared, although the man rooted to the ground had. Mouse stood over the man, his teeth bared.

Harry shouted, "Mouse, protect Molly."

The dog turned and loped back toward the cobblestone circle.

Romeo said, "Okay, now there are seven of us."

Luccio shouted at Romeo. "Group shield!"

Romeo muttered something and the monsters were repelled by a blue-green bubble of power.  They fell in a tangled wreath around the seven fighters who stood back-to-back.  The monsters pushed themselves up and were now all beating on the bubble with their stubby wooden arms.

 _B: Are you making that bubble?_  
_V: Not me._

Harry called out, "Don't kill any of them until I give the signal!"

Romeo gritted out, "Hurry up!"

Luccio rolled her shoulders and said. "Everyone has ten seconds to kill fifteen. And I mean dead and gone.  Wounded won't do the job."

Harry interrupted her, saying, "Sixteen in nine seconds if you can do it. One-on-one fighters aim for the heads... well, head area, but don't leave our circle. If we don't get every single one there will be twice the number and we'll be screwed. Don't miss a single one. Got it?”

The group nodded.

Harry shouted, “Ready, Set, Go!”

The last word stretched into a long moan as time transitioned back to a slow crawl. Vegard smiled. Bård was so good at beating time; now they had all the time in the world.

 _B: Of course we have time. But this is like Onyxia. Focus or we'll wipe._  
_V: Ja, ja._

_BOOM!_

Vegard didn’t have to do much, as his own bubble flashed every time one of the creatures swung its sharpened claws at him or Bård. So he concentrated on helping his brother and deflecting the showers of splinters the dying creatures produced.

 _B: Four in one blow._  
_V: Good job. Seven to go._

Vegard glanced around. There was a flattened circle of earth to his left and to his right there was a swath of flame, the creatures within it screeching and flailing. It occurred to him suddenly that the whole situation had gotten a little weird.

 _B: Seven? Three seconds to go._  
_V: You can do it._  
_B: Seven wooden people. Trolls. Like the seven dwarves._  
_V: Hæ?_  
_B: You know, like Snow White._  
_V: Emma was mad for Snow White and her dark hair..._  
_B: Ja._  
_V: I can never remember their names._  
_B: I can. Let’s do that._  
_V: Hæ?_

They sang out dwarven names in quick succession as Bård blasted the creatures:

_“Brille! Prosit! Blygen! Minsten! Søvnig! Lystig!"*_

Halfway through Vegard started giggling and could barely sing along.

Time sped up again and Bård blasted the last one, singing out: _“Vellystig!”_

A moment later Jones was cutting down the last troll. And they were done.

Vegard fell to his knees and held his stomach with his free hand, weeping with laughter.  

Jones frowned down at him and asked, "Is he okay?"

Bård smiled up at the others and nudged his brother with his boot.  "He's fine.  Vegard, get up."  

Vegard wiped his eyes and let Bård pull him back up to his feet.

 _V: I thought you knew all seven names._  
_B: Shuddup._  
_V: Vellystig?_  
_B: I panicked._

Bård let go of Vegard’s hand and asked, “Where’s Calle?”

Vegard winced and pointed, still recovering from his giggling spell. Calle stood up from the bushes and waved unenthusiastically. The cat beside him yawned, its long dark pink tongue stretching past its pale, pointed fangs.

Molly appeared suddenly out of thin air. She nodded apologetically at the startled Norwegians. “Sorry. It’s a cloaking spell. I was hiding until the fight was over.  I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Harry frowned. "You were supposed to get those kids out of here."

Molly put her hand on her hip. "I couldn't get a portal out."

"Oh.  Right.  You need to be in specific positions to do that.  Where are they all?"

She motioned back toward the cobblestone circle. "They're over there on the benches."

Followed closely by Harry, Luccio and Thomas, they all jogged toward Charity and the doctor. The three children were still sleeping and lay on low stone benches along the edge of the cobblestone.  The group, most of them still breathing hard from the battle,  gathered around the kids. Vegard rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Bård peered down at the closest child, the girl. Her eyes were open and bouncing around unnaturally. He didn't think she could see him. He asked tightly, “What’s wrong with her?”

Harry went down on one knee and asked, “Is this some kind of spell?”

Jones frowned. “If so I don’t know it.”

Dr. Butter said, “Not a spell. Anesthetic. Probably ketamine. Shouldn't last too long. Depends on the dose.”

Bård asked thickly, “Will that hurt the children?”

“No.  Should wake up a little sleepy, that’s all.”

Harry frowned. “Sounds like they want the kids unhurt. That’s reassuring, at least.”

Thomas glanced around. “You think they were headed somewhere nearby or another portal?"

"I don't know."

Charity kneeled next to one of the boys. “They shouldn’t wake up here. They’ll be frightened as it is.”

Vegard stood and realized Charity's right upper arm was bleeding; she had an impressive cut there through the chainmail. She hadn't complained. He glanced around at the others, wondering who he should try to heal first. He should have been paying attention to their companions, not getting swept up in Bård's manic enthusiasm.

Luccio frowned down at the boy and said, “Interrogate the kidnappers if they're still alive. I’ll take these children back out along with the doctor. I'll be right back.”

Harry nodded. "Charity, you're injured. Michael will be unhappy with me if you get any more hurt. And you're good with kids. You should go."

Vegard cleared his throat and said, "I could try to fix her arm."

Charity shook her head. "No, I hate to admit it but Harry's right. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing. Save your magic for the others." She glanced up at Harry and added, “Find Maggie. But if either of my daughters gets hurt I will be very unhappy.”

Harry held up his hands defensively. “Hey, it’s me!”

Charity and Molly both rolled their eyes. As they did Vegard could see the mother-daughter resemblance clearly. Folks always told him they could see his resemblance to Bård when they scowled or laughed. He felt a little closer to the Americans now. They really were a family on a mission. His eyes welled up.

Bård touched his arm.

 _B: What's the problem?_  
_V: Nothing. I'm fine._  
_B: Are you crying?_  
_V: I'm fine. I just felt emotional for a moment._  
_B: You're like a little girl sometimes, Vegard._  
_V: Unnskyld._

In less than a minute the three children were carried back to the real world. As the door in the air shut behind them Harry turned to the brothers and Molly. “Take the Wonder Twins over by Calle and the malk scout. The interrogation is going to be quick and probably ugly.”

"I'm not a child, Harry."

"I don't want you to watch, Molly.  Please?"

Molly sighed.  "Okay."

He nodded towards Jones, who was already kneeling next to the first kidnapper, still held on the ground by roots. “Wardens don’t like to waste time. Mouse, go with them.”

Bård started to protest but Vegard dragged him away. Molly followed them toward Calle, still holding his rifle and standing in the shrubbery.

As they neared Calle asked in Norwegian, "What's happening?"

Bård muttered, "This is completely Texas."

"Ja."

Molly looked between them and said softly, “The children were only drugged. They’ll be okay. Harry and the Wardens and Romeo are going to find out where the kids are.”

Calle grunted, "I forgot about Romeo again."

Molly smiled but sobered when she caught Vegard's eye. "You guys need to be careful around the Wardens. Sound magic is a pretty rare gift in humans. The Wardens are going to want an excuse to study you."

Bård shook his head wearily and pushed his hands through his hair, _"Kjempeflott."_

Mouse chuffed at the cat. The cat pointedly ignored him, instead staring fixedly at Vegard. Vegard shrank back and deliberately turned toward Calle.

Calle raised a questioning brow but asked in English, “Why did you two yell _vellystig_?”

Molly frowned. "What does jellystick mean?"

Calle smiled. "It means... uh... lusty." 

Bård offered, “Or horny.  We could only remember six of the seven dwarves. From _Snehvit_."

_"Hæ?"_

"The Disney movie.”

Calle put a hand on his hip and shook his head.  “I see. My first thought was that blowing monsters up made you aroused.”

Vegard nodded. “That too, obviously.”

Bård halfheartedly offered, "Vegard has an enormous erection whenever we cast spells."

Vegard kept a straight face. "I wouldn't say it's enormous."

Bård said, "He's being modest, of course."

Calle nodded solemnly. "Magic boners are the worst."

Vegard turned to study Bård; despite the banter his brother was standing stiff as a plank. Vegard didn’t have to ask why. He was surely imagining his daughter in place of those children they’d just rescued.  He knew Bård wanted to question the prisoners himself.  But they needed to leave this job to the professionals.

The prisoner let out a yelp. But he was hidden from view by the people kneeling on the ground around him.

Molly cringed and said, “I know them: Happy, Dopey, Sneezy, Sleepy, Bashful, Grumpy and …uh…”

Vegard nodded, trying not to hear what the men were doing. With forced enthusiasm he said, “Grumpy. That’s the one I couldn’t remember.” He glanced at the cat; it was crouching motionless and was staring directly at him. Vegard gulped. He wondered if this was how a mouse felt right before the cat of the house pounced.

Molly finished, “…and Doc.”

The prisoner cried out again and Molly began chanting. The air around them abruptly fell utterly silent.

Bård rubbed his ear in surprise. “I can’t hear."

Calle said into the dead air, "It’s like being in a sound booth.”

The cat said, “It’ _th_ a veil." It paused and added patronizingly, "We are hidden within the _th_ pell."

Bård blinked with surprise and then asked Calle, “Can you hear the cat talking or is that just me?”

The cat spat at Bård, “I am not a cat, you fish-eating tit.”

Bård's mouth dropped open.

The cat turned its attention back to Vegard.

Vegard finally asked, "Why are you staring at me?"

"Why are _you_ _th_ taring at _me_?"

Calle sighed. “I hear it talking too. It's incredibly rude.”

_“Ja.”_

Vegard said, "Change the topic."

Bård shrugged and said, “I don’t feel right about them torturing that kidnapper.”

The giant cat sighed. “They are not torturing him. They are ques _th_ tioning him thoroughly. Most human _th_ rather di _th_ like having their mind _th_ read. They tend to shout unne _th_ e _th_ arily."

Bård blinked. “Who are you again?”

The cat ignored the question and began noisily licking its own bottom, one leg pointed straight into the air over its head.

 _“Æsj.”_ Bård grimaced and turned toward Mouse, and patted the dog's head.

Although the outside sound was significantly muffled in Molly's veil, when the prisoner shouted again they could hear the cry.  Calle winced.

Bård asked lightly, “So, Carl-Fredrik, do you know the seven dwarfs?”

Calle shook his head. “ _Nei_. I know the seven _dødssynder_... uh... deadly sins.”

Bård rubbed Mouse behind the ears, causing the giant dog to close its eyes with pleasure. “Do it. It'll keep our minds off of this. You have ten seconds.”

Calle grimaced and glanced at Molly. “Okay. Self-promotion. Greed. Jealousy.”

"Seven seconds left."

“Overindulgence.”

Vegard nodded, “Three more.”

“Did I say greed?”

Bård grunted, “Yes.”

“ _Vrede_ … wrath… and pride… and…”

Vegard clucked.

“Is the last one something I’ve done? Smoking?”

“No.”

“Is it _vellystig_?”

Bård sighed. “That’s right.”

The nighttime sounds returned abruptly. Molly said simply, “They’re done. And it’s not jellystick. The last sin is sloth. Laziness.”

“Ah.”

Vegard nodded and said wearily, “It’s only jellystick in England.” He didn’t really want to see what the Wardens had done with their captive; the whole thing still seemed like torture and incredibly unethical. But Americans were big on revenge, weren't they? Maybe the magical world worked the same way. Regardless, he would be happy when they found Nora and the others and could go home and leave all this behind.

When they turned to look back at Harry, the three prisoners were gone. In fact, all of the creatures' woody corpses were gone as well. Molly turned off the veil and they all trudged back toward the wizards.

Harry and the others looked grim, and Vegard thought maybe it was better not to ask exactly what had happened to the bodies. He didn’t want to know.

Harry said, “We took a look into their heads. They weren't magic practitioners. But they were taking those kids to the _Siyah Tapinak._ The Black Temple.”

Bård asked with hesitation, “How do we get there?”

“I've never been there. But the prisoner said it’s not far.” He pointed down one of the paths leading away from the crossroads.

Jones said, "I've been there. Scouting. When I was learning how to work the Ways. It's in a nasty neighborhood."

Beside Harry, Thomas let out a long breath. "The Red Court vampires used to hang out there, I think. That place was heavily protected."

Harry nodded. "So whoever's there now are major players."

"Yeah."

Harry shook his head. "We're going to need a bigger boat."

Romeo said, "I'm going to report in. We can get more manpower there faster if the Bureau knows what's happening."

Harry nodded but added, "Thomas, you go with him. Make sure Charity and the kids got to the hospital safely and get us backup for the Black Temple. If not the White Court then anyone who is good in a fight. You know my contacts. See who you can find."

"You sure?" Thomas rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. They stared at each other grimly.

Vegard squinted up at the two men, both a good head taller than he was. With them frowning in profile, they looked remarkably similar. He wondered if they were related. Was everyone related to someone else on this expedition?

Harry nodded at the vampire. "Yeah. Go."

Romeo muttered something under his breath and a new tear opened in the space before him. He turned to leave and shot a look back at Harry and Luccio. "I'll be back here in ten minutes. Don't leave without me."

Harry smiled. "Sure, sure. We wouldn't think of leaving."

The moment the rift closed behind Thomas and Romeo, Harry said, "Okay, let's go."

Luccio sighed and rested her hand on her sword's hilt. "Harry, he's an ally. We should wait."

Bård said, “No, we should go. We've spent too much time here already.”

Harry looked past Bård. “Where's the malk?"

The group turned to look.

Calle shrugged. "Huh. The cat was just there."

Behind them, a deep voice called out, "I am not a cat, you vacuous _th_ twat."

Calle still couldn't see the creature. He called out petulantly, "You look like a cat!" and was pleased to hear an annoyed harrumph in return.

Harry said, "That is a malk, not a cat. Malks are good at camouflage and they go where they want. They also can rip off your head in under a second. Don't annoy the malk."

Calle frowned. "Okay."

"What's Mouse doing?"

The group turned to look at the huge dog. It was pacing back and forth, sniffing the ground. It looked up and barked.

Bård’s eyes widened. “Where?”

_“Woof.”_

“Then we have to go that way.”

Vegard put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “What's happening?”

“He smells Nora. Leading off that way.” Bård pointed. And then he pointed the opposite way, “But he smells his girl that way, going in the direction you said led to that temple.” Bård let out a breath of frustration. "He wants to follow his owner."

Vegard turned to the Wardens. “Is that what the dog said?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t speak dog.”

Jones nodded. “I do. That's what it said. So which scent trail do we follow?”

Harry frowned. “Why can everyone talk to my dog but me?”

Luccio sighed. “We go to the Black Temple. It’s our best lead.”

Harry cleared his throat. "Right. We have to follow Maggie."

Bård shook his head, “I have to follow my daughter.”

Harry nodded. “I understand. But Mouse wants to go after Maggie. How will you follow your daughter's trail without a tracker?"

The malk's voice offered, "I can _th_ mell the girl the dog detected. And the others that were with her."

Luccio grunted, "You said you know the Ways around there, Jones?”

“Yes ma'am.”

Harry glanced at Luccio. “I bet the two paths meet up at the same place.”

Vegard side, “We’re safer together.”

Molly piped up, “I’ll go with them, Harry. If we run into trouble I can veil us.”

Luccio studied her and then said, “Jones, go with them. Keep an eye on them and lookout for trouble. If you run into something you can’t handle, backtrack here and meet us at the Black Temple by this route. If you will lose more than an hour doing that, go back to Edinburgh and get backup. They have the ley line maps there; there might be a more direct route.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good luck.”

Harry nodded and turned to shake Bård's, Vegard's and then Calle's hand. He hugged Molly and said, "Stay safe, grasshopper."

Molly nodded. "Will do. Come on guys."

Calle winced when the cat appeared suddenly beside him, its whiskers splayed forward. It almost looked cute.  It said simply, "Do try to keep up, _nordmann_ " and began walking quickly down the path.

Calle said, "Oh. This is... great."

Bård clapped Calle on the shoulder and said lightly, "It's a good thing you two are best friends now." He added in Norwegian, "The cat sounds a bit like Alan Rickman, don't you think?"

Ahead of them, the malk sighed.

Behind them, Harry called out cheerily, "See you soon!"

As the last in line, Vegard waved back and turned to follow the others. Despite the tone of Harry's voice, Vegard could tell he was furious and anxious to get going. And Bård's relief that they were moving again was palpable. Calle was nauseated a bit from the excitement. Molly and Jones were both tense but not terribly frightened.  Hm.  Something had changed since they got here;  he could sense all of them without having to look at them.  Maybe he needed to be more careful about using magic.

Vegard turned and watched Harry, Luccio and Mouse disappearing into the forest. He surveyed the clearing one last time. When he'd gotten here he'd sensed three people watching them, not just the two wardens. Initially he thought he must have sensed the malk but now he wasn't so sure. But if someone else had been watching them they were gone now.

He chewed his lip a moment, and then heard Bård impatiently calling for him. Vegard turned on his heel and jogged to catch up with the others. He wondered if Molly had brought any sandwiches with her. He was hungry again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***  
> "Snehvit og de syv dvergene" is the dubbed Norwegian version of Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. You can find numerous clips on YouTube of Norwegian dubs of that movie and other Disney favorites. If you are struggling to learn some norsk I highly recommend them, as the lyrics are usually very close to the English (and I assume other) translations and since they are meant for children, the vocabulary isn't overwhelming. Yay!


	18. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone goes on the road.

Jonas, Nora and Honey stepped through the magical door and emerged in a sunny cobblestone plaza surrounded by beautiful strange trees and flowering bushes. The two soldiers that had brought them here said nothing more than a gruff, "Keep moving!" and hurried them along one of the narrow roads leading into the forest. One soldier walked in front and the other behind, both gripping their rifles. Jonas and Nora held hands with Honey (in between them, of course) and Fregne wedged her warm little body under Jonas's baggy hoodie and T-shirt. He didn't want to let go of his sister to readjust the little squirrel, but he softly clucked at Fregne in the hopes she wouldn't urinate on him. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want the soldiers to know she was there.

Five minutes later they approached an ancient-looking army transport truck parked on a cobbled road wide enough for only one vehicle. The soldiers lifted them into the back where a dozen other children sat silently waiting on two benches along the inner sides. One of the soldiers handed them each a small water bottle and said, not unkindly, "We're going now. It's a bumpy ride but it will be a short trip." He closed the flap of the truck. Even with the canvas barrier around them, the coughing truck engine soon overwhelmed the musty air in the truck with the smell of diesel fuel.

Once his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness, Jonas leaned in toward Honey's ear and said, "We'll stay together, don't worry." He pulled back slightly to look at his sister and found Nora's face inches from his own. Before he had a chance to say something stupid she said, "I don't like this situation at all," and pulled back.

Honey echoed, "I don't like this situation either."

Jonas gulped, but for the girls' sake he wanted to appear calm. He could feel Honey's shoulders shaking and he put an arm around her. "I don't either, but we're here and stuck for now. Just do what they say and stay together and we'll be okay."

Nora asked, "Who are these other kids, do you think? They look like they're from other countries."

"I don't know. If they came through a magic door like we did I guess they could be from anywhere." When they'd entered the back of the truck he'd noticed that some of the kids were black or Asian, but now he couldn't make out much of the other kids in the darkness. Being homeschooled meant he didn't get to see kids from other countries except on TV or the internet, and if they all hadn't been in this weird situation he'd have been excited to talk to them. But they'd all looked scared before the soldier shut out the sunlight.  That was bad.  Jonas winced as the creaking truck hit a bump. He pulled his sister closer on the uncomfortable wooden bench to steady her better.

Honey sniffled and said, "Do you think Mamma and Pappa are okay?"

Jonas swallowed hard. He felt sure his parents could defend against just about any attack, magical or otherwise, especially with his uncles helping them. But he was worried for his sisters and brothers. The little ones had all been inside taking a nap when the blackness enveloped the house.

But he wasn't going to burden Honey with that. Instead he nodded and kissed the side of her head. "Of course they're okay. Remember the wolves? They can handle anything." He glanced at Nora and quickly looked away. She'd been studying him thoughtfully with her beautiful eyes.

Nora leaned closer again and Jonas froze, terrified to move. Was she so scared she wanted to kiss? That happened in movies a lot. She was still wearing the wreath that Honey had made; he could smell the flowers and fresh grass as she drew near. He didn't really know how to kiss a girl on the lips. He'd thought about it a lot, though. Nora had gone through a kissing phase when they'd been about five years old; she would grab his face, kiss him full on the mouth and break into hysterical laughter. He'd since spent a lot of time agonizing whether her giggles had been because kissing made her happy or because she was mocking him. It had been so long ago he was sure she'd forgotten all about it. But he hadn't. Jonas wetted his lips and realized he probably had nut bread breath. Was that bad? Maybe he should have had a mint. Too late now. He couldn't take his eyes off of her mouth. Her lips parted slightly and he held his breath.

Nora asked, "Is that squirrel still in your shirt? I can see it wiggling around."

Jonas squeaked, "Yes?"

She frowned and said disdainfully, "You can't just walk around with a squirrel in your shirt."

"Why not?"

"What if she poops?"

Jonas sighed with disappointment. It was for the best, considering his nut bread breath. But why would Nora be worried about such a mundane thing as animal droppings?  He had to excuse her of course. She was a city girl. He explained, "Fregne is still a baby; I can't just put her down in a strange forest. She'd die."

"Okay but..." Nora broke off as Honey let out a loud sob. Nora patted Honey's hand and made sympathetic noises.

Jonas squeezed his sister's shoulders and braced as they hit another bump. Honey was only a little younger than him and Nora but she wasn't particularly brave even for her age. He wished his mother were here; she always knew the right thing to say to calm the younger kids down.

They hit another bump. He made a mental note to carry breath mints in the future. Just in case.

 

* * *

 

Calle took a long drag from the bottle of water Molly handed him. He flicked the top back on and handed it back saying, "Thank you."

"My pleasure. When this is all over I totally want to sit down with you over some coffee and ask you about the book."

"That sounds great."

She smiled and moved on to offer water to Bård, who was pacing back and forth furiously about three meters away. Calle was just as glad she was dealing with Bård; the tension radiating from his friend was draining. And Vegard was no help; he hadn't said a word since they'd started. Despite all the weirdness.

Calle thought back. Twenty minutes or so after their little group separated from Harry and Luccio, the big grey cat had suddenly sprinted forward into the darkness, returning to join them again only a few moments later. It spoke softly to Warden Jones and then trotted over to Vegard and rubbed its face violently against his thigh and his hand. Then it turned, blinked once at Calle and darted off the road, disappearing into the shadows.

Bård asked his brother, "What was that about?"

Vegard shrugged.

Jones waved the group forward and explained, "Keep moving. Wadjet said your daughter got on a transport here and says we should stay on this road; it will lead us to her and the Black Temple."

Calle muttered, "What sort of name is Wadjet for a talking cat? Why not something like Professor Pawsanova or Sir Meows-A-Lot? "

Molly offered, "Mr. Bigglesworth?"

"Or Chairman Meow."

Jones frowned at them and continued, "The _malk_ is going back to the pride to report in and will meet us at the Black Temple. It's only a dozen miles down this road. Let's double time it; I'd like to get there before sunup if we can."

They'd walked/jogged for thirty minutes or so on when the road widened and led through what appeared to be fields of tall wild grass. Not for the first time, Calle thanked his parents for his height. The grass was at least a meter and a half high and he knew that he had the best view of all of them. Not that there was much to see. Just tall silvery grass waving in the slowly lightening sky. Waving with a cool breeze that reminded Calle of autumn at home.

Calle was grateful when Jones finally called a brief stop at a crossroads where several short pillars were just about the right height for sitting. Calle was bathed in sweat.  He'd thought he was in pretty good shape but he didn't usually jog wearing combat gear and holding a rifle.

While the others caught their breath and took a water break, Warden Jones chose not to sit but instead stood on one of the pillars and kept watch. Calle studied him. The dark skin of Jones's shaved head glistened slightly with perspiration; but he wasn't even breathing hard. That would have been embarrassing but thankfully Vegard and Molly were also out of breath. As long as Calle wasn't the only one he could maintain the illusion of dignity.

Jones scanned the grass with his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword, which looked a little out of place with his more modern fatigues. Calle wondered what it took to learn serious swordsmanship. He'd had some experience with fencing, mostly for performances; it was the kind of fencing which was meant to look cool and to not hurt your partner. Which was the opposite of useful.

Jones asked quietly, "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing." Calle blinked up at him. "I mean, you. No, I don't mean you are nothing, obviously. I mean that-"

"Dude. You're creeping me out."

Calle held up his hands in defeat. "I apologize. I just thought your sword was cool."

"It is cool."

"Have you served in the military?"

"Yes."

"Me too. Have you seen action?"

"Desert Storm in '91. Marines. What branch?"

"Navy."

"Squid, huh?" Jones turned away from him to watch their surroundings but asked, "What's that accent again?"

"Norwegian."

"Huh."

"I can do an American accent if you prefer."

Jones glanced at him. "If you can speak like an American why don't you do it anyway?"

"Because it's not my accent."

"That makes no sense. It's not even your language."

Calle snorted, offended. "It's not actually your language either. English started in England."

Jones shook his head, smiling, and looked back out at the tall waving grass. "Just sayin'... if you want to blend in, speak like a native. Basic rule."

Calle switched to an American accent. "Anything you say, _sirrr."_

"What the hell was that?"

"American?"

Jones smiled, his white teeth bright. "Nope."

Calle frowned. "Really?"

"You sound like a guy in a '40s movie."

Calle grunted noncommittally then hesitated and asked, in his own accent, "Hold on, you were in Iraq in 1991?"

"Yeah, I know, I look young. Benefit of being a wizard."

"That's amazing."

"Yes it is. Now stop staring at me and pay attention to your surroundings. This grass could be hiding anything."

Calle smiled. "Yes sir."

"Squid."

Bård rolled his shoulders impatiently. "Let's go. This has already taken too long." He turned to pull Vegard to his feet. "We aren't going to get there before dawn. The sun is almost up."

Molly put her water bottle back in her duffel bag. "Time moves strangely here. We may have been walking for hours or only a few seconds."

Bård nodded. "Or ten years. Let's go, my daughter is waiting."

"Right."

Vegard asked, "How can time pass differently here?"

Jones grunted, "Has to do with black holes or large gravitational bodies in the real-space-time connected to different areas of the Nevernever."

"How is that possible?"

Bård sighed with irritation. "We can't do anything about it so don't worry about it."

"But-"

"Shuddup, Vegard."

"You shuddup, _little brother."_

Bård punched Vegard in the arm and started jogging again. 

"Ow?"

Vegard met eyes with Calle.

Jones swore and hurried to catch up to Bård.

Calle rolled his eyes and patted Vegard's other arm. "Come on, big brother. Us old folks have to suffer in silence."

Vegard nodded but rubbed his arm where Bård had punched him, concentrating on the spot so it wouldn't bruise. He didn't think Bård had hit him that hard ever before. Bård wasn't thinking straight enough to pull his punches. Vegard understood.

They moved silently along the path for a short time, with Jones in front as before. But Calle nearly ran into him when Jones abruptly held up a fist, bringing them all to a halt. He turned with his finger against his lips and pointed back the way they came. They huddled up and Jones breathed, "Be silent. Behind us. A group. Walking."

Molly whispered, "Harry? Or Romeo?"

"Don't think so. Don't think it's the malk either. Rather know for sure."

Molly nodded and beckoned them all to move off the road with her. Calle thought they left an obvious mark as they trampled the tall grasses, but when they were all safely off the road Molly began soundlessly chanting. Within a moment they were surrounded by translucent, intact grass stalks again. And then the sound around them muted. The sound booth spell again, this time with camouflage. That was pretty cool.

They only had to wait a few minutes before the sky was bright enough for them to see the newcomers clearly. It was a group of four or five, led by a big burly man with short-trimmed auburn hair, oversized muscles and a scowl. He was fairly bursting out of his white long-sleeved dress shirt and black trousers and boots. If he were to take a deep breath Calle bet all the buttons would pop off in series like the Hulk. The man's size alone was intimidating, but a white scar ran down the left side of his face and over his open and opaque left eye. It made him look monstrous. In front of and behind him were four other brutish figures, all wearing hooded grey robes with red trim. They looked vaguely human, but their jaws and brows were unnaturally thick. Calle wondered if they were some type of weregorilla. Was there such a thing? That would be pretty weird. Maybe they were just cavemen. That seemed less farfetched.

As the group drew nearer, Calle saw that they had what looked like a boy between them wearing a loose hooded grey robe and sandals. A prisoner. His hands were handcuffed before him and fixed to a rope held by the hulking leader. A grey fabric sack was draped over the captive's head. Without being able to see, Calle was impressed the boy hadn't fallen down.

Bård's attention was wholly focused on the captive. He whispered, "Is that one of the missing children?"

Jones breathed, "Could be."

Vegard gripped Bård's shoulder and whispered urgently, "Look at the leader's necklace."

Calle squinted at the leader, almost upon them. He was wearing a silver pendant around his neck attached to a black leather cord. Calle thought the pendant looked too delicate for such a heavyset man; it was worked to look like a wolf and rabbit chasing each other in a circle, each with rubies for eyes.


	19. The Bad Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's baaaaaaack...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Don't believe anything the bad guy says.

Bård howled with fury and threw himself at the leader of the group. The two fell to the ground and the four cavemen escorts drew back with confusion; to them Bård had appeared out of nowhere.

Calle froze, unsure what to do. Beside him Vegard grunted, _"Helvete"_ and flung himself forward as well. But he didn't go after his brother. Instead he threw his arms wide and jumped toward the prisoner, taking him down in an awkward embrace. They rolled to the ground, Vegard protecting the captive beneath him and jerking the rope lead out of the leader's hand.

Calle snapped his mouth shut when he realized it was hanging open. The four cavemen gathered their wits and two began pulling Bård off of their leader while the other two went after Vegard.

Calle moved to follow but Jones put a restraining hand on his shoulder.  He glanced at Molly;  she was still moving her lips wordlessly, keeping their camouflage intact.

Jones whispered, "We're still hidden. Why'd they attack?"

Calle shook his head and gripped his rifle, itching to help his friends. "I don't know. But shouldn't we help them?"

"Let's see what happens."

Calle turned his attention back toward the road. The leader had pushed himself up to stand and was brushing dirt off of his white shirt and dark trousers. Two of the cavemen worked to hold Bård firmly by the arms.

Bård, red-faced and spitting, hurled profanities and threats at the leader. Calle had never, ever seen Bård this angry, this out of control. Even in Tokyo, at his worst, Bård had been cocky and menacing. Not apoplectic. And in all the years Calle had known Bård he'd been incredibly cowardly in physical confrontations. Was he possessed again?  Or was his anger was about the captive?

Calle squinted at the figure Vegard was protecting beneath him. He'd thought it was a boy, but with the baggy robes and dirt maybe it was a girl. Was it Nora? He'd thought Nora was smaller. He couldn't tell.  Calle worked his jaw.  _What the fuck was going on?_

The scarred man spoke. "Well, _sheee-it._ " He had a deep voice, in keeping with his size, and what sounded like a Southern American accent. He stood facing Bård now, looking him up and down with obvious contempt. He drawled, "You little fucking faggot. I knew if I waited long enough I'd have a chance to repay you for this." He pointed to his ruined eye.

Bård struggled uselessly against the cavemen and spat, "I should have killed you back then, you motherfucker!"

"You tried, you little shit. Failed."

"That's Ruby's pendant around your neck!"

"Yeah. Ain't it nice?" The leader started to smile but grimaced and gingerly touched his own mouth.  Bård had managed to split the man's lip.  The leader frowned at the blood on his fingertips. "This better not leave a scar, asshole."

"You can't get any uglier!" Although the two cavemen had arms like tree trunks, they were having trouble holding Bård still. Calle hadn't thought Bård was that strong.

The leader sighed and said, "Yeah, it was a real surprise. Everybody thought Ruby was dead." He smirked and hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward where Vegard was lying with the captive and said, "But here she is. I knew I wasn't through with her."

"What did you do to her?!"

"Nothing she didn't have coming. Let's bring her over here and I'll show you." The scarred man turned to look back down the path and frowned.

Calle squinted back towards the captive.   A girl after all.   Vegard and the girl flinched as the two other cavemen pounded down at them with their meaty fists. But Vegard's protective silvery bubble flickered into view with each blow. The punches weren't landing. Vegard called out, "They can't get to us. Somebody do something!"

Jones nodded toward Bård and whispered to Calle, "That shield is going to attract attention. You think the brother will cut loose with magic?"

Calle swallowed heavily. Bård was thrashing so violently against the cavemen he'd probably dislocate his shoulders. He was out of control. Calle whispered back, "Maybe once he calms down enough to think."

As if on cue, blue sparks began dancing over Bård's body. The cavemen howled in pain, but didn't let go of his arms.

Jones grunted, "Oh, _Hell_ no!" and stepped out of Molly's veil. He planted his feet and said firmly, "On the authority of the White Council I order you all to stand down!"

Molly sighed softly but didn't stop her soundless litany. She grabbed Calle's hand and led him onto the very edge of the road and back the way they'd come, towards Vegard. To Calle's relief, no one noticed them as they sneaked past.

Bård was still sparking with power and Jones held a hand out toward him, shouting, "You! Power down!" Bård and the two cavemen abruptly grunted and staggered back a few steps, dazed as if they'd all been shoved. Bård blinked at Jones.

Jones grunted. "That's better."

To Calle's left, the two cavemen pounding on Vegard's bubble hesitated and turned slowly towards Jones with surprise.

The leader recovered from his own surprise and glared at Jones, saying, "What the fuck is this bullshit?!" He stomped past Jones and into the trampled grass, directly where Calle and Molly had been standing moments before. He shouted, "How many more of you fucks are hiding out there?"

Jones frowned at the leader and said calmly, "Perhaps you didn't hear me. Stand down. Release these men and explain your business with your prisoner."

Bård, began struggling against the cavemen again and shouted, "That man is a rapist and a murderer and that girl is our sister."

The scarred man snorted. "She ain't their sister. I grew up with the little slut. She's mine and always has been. Fair and square."

From the ground, Vegard corrected, "Adopted sister. She doesn't belong to anyone but herself."

Jones nostrils flared as he drew a long, slow breath in through his nose. He raised a brow and stared down the leader as he exhaled. Despite being a head taller and twice as wide as the warden, the leader took a step back, uncertain. Calle was impressed.

Finally Jones responded, in conversational tone, "If that captive is yours, fair and square, then why is she in that condition?"

"What I do with my property is none of your business, you dirty nig**r."

In one smooth movement, Jones drew his sword, stepped forward and held the point of the blade at the scarred man's throat. A single drop of blood appeared on at its tip. Jones growled, "Do not start a fight you cannot possibly finish."

The scarred man held up his hands. "Hey! Don't get all carried away."

Jones corrected him. "Don't get all carried away, sir."

"Okay, _sir."_ The man emphasized the last word with heavy sarcasm. "But she's my property and we're on a mission. So get out of our way. Sir."

"It is against the law to keep slaves."

"Not here it isn't. _Sir."_

"Yes. It is. I want to hear what she has to say."

"I don't care what you want. _Sir."_

Bård shouted, "Shut up, Ranger. Vegard, get that hood off of her."

Vegard didn't look up but called out, "Working on it!"

Calle frowned. _Ranger?_ He remembered hearing the name before but couldn't place it.

Vegard pulled away the captive's hood revealing a tangle of golden blond hair. The young woman beneath blinked steadily at Vegard with ice blue eyes as he sat her upright and worked to remove the cloth gag tied between her teeth. Calle cringed; the woman had obviously been beaten. The left side of her face was swollen and marked with dark bruises; her lips were cracked and bloodied. This was the secret sister? She looked younger than either of the brothers.

Ranger grunted, his arms still held high to his sides, Jones's sword still at his throat. He said, "If you take out that gag, Ruby there'll start putting curses on everyone."

Jones didn't move but said, "Ruby. Do not cast any spells."

The girl nodded. Vegard pulled away the gag and held her face, gingerly inspecting the injuries. Calle heard him say softly in Norwegian, "We talked to you only four hours ago, Sif."

She croaked back in Norwegian, her words slurred, "Four days for me. Call me Ruby; Ranger doesn't know my new name.” She closed her eyes and leaned forward; Vegard pulled her close and hugged her gently. Calle shifted uncomfortably at the overt display of affection and decided to focus on Bård.

Bård said, "Warden, that woman is our adopted sister. Ruby."

Jones, still watching Ranger, said, "You appear to treat your property very poorly, Ranger."

One of the cavemen grunted, "We don't want no trouble with Wardens. Tell, him, Ranger."

Jones nodded and returned his sword to its sheath. "Yes, tell me, Ranger."

Ranger backed up, still holding his hands out. He glowered at Jones and said, "Look. _Sir._ Ruby here came back to our Church and accused us of taking her two kids. The Church questioned Ruby a little and then called me. They know I've been looking for her. We don't have her kids but we’re missing one of our girls and Ruby seems to know where they all might be. So we made what you might call a deal. Ruby leads me to the missing kids and in return I let her kids live. She has to die, obviously." Ranger looked at Bård and grinned.

Bård glared back at him and sparks began running over his skin again.

Jones pointed at Bård and said firmly, "I said stand down. No magic!"

Bård powered down and stomped on one of the cavemen's feet. It grunted but didn't release his arm.

Jones turned back to Ranger and said, “So she helps you and in return you kill her? That’s not much of a deal.”

“She has it coming. Sir.” Ranger smirked at Vegard and added, "You too, guinea pig. You can die together."

Vegard ignored him.

Ranger persisted, "Did you sire her missing brats, guinea pig?”

Vegard glanced at Ranger for a moment with undisguised hatred but said nothing. Instead he pulled a little key ring from his pocket and began using one of the attached tools to open Ruby's handcuffs.

Ranger barked a laugh. “Thought so." He turned back to Jones and said, "Ruby was gagging for him fifteen years ago."

Jones sighed, "Don't care."

Ranger, clearly disappointed with Jones's reaction, turned back towards Vegard and called out, "Hey guinea pig, just so you know, she's damaged goods. I fucked her before we left."

Calle cringed as Bård flushed and let loose another string of curses in Norwegian. Now Calle wasn't sure he wanted the cavemen to let Bård loose. He'd gone full-on berserk.

Ruby shook her head and said hoarsely, "He's lying."

Jones frowned but said patiently, "You look _vaguely_ human, Ranger, and I don't sense you can use magic. Are you a human?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"So how did a human like you get to the Nevernever?"

Ranger pointed to the sky. "You mean this place? You mean Hell? This here is our church headquarters. Back that way." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Since I can say confidently that Satan, who rules Hell by the way, is on my side, you all are trespassing. And even with that sword, we've got you outnumbered five to three. You don't want to fight my attendants." He gestured toward the cavemen.  "They'll rip your arms off."

"Hm."

"So give me the girl back or we'll kill all of you, and then take her anyway. _Sir."_

Jones thought a moment and then said calmly, “No. I propose we join forces instead. We are also searching for several lost children."

Vegard gaped up at Jones and Bård growled, “We are not going to lead this _animal_ towards innocent children.”

Jones kept his eyes on Ranger. “After our mission is complete, you can negotiate the disposition of your captive with myself or another Warden. When there is time to sort out the story. Until then I'll take this woman Ruby into protective custody."

Ranger spat, “Can't wait to get your hands on a white girl, can you?"

Jones answered evenly, “You forgot to say _sir._ "

Ranger sneered, "Oh fuck you."

Vegard was still working on Ruby's handcuffs, trying to slide a shim into the locking mechanism. He said in English, “We can’t work with Ranger. You can’t trust him to keep his word. He’s a psychopath.”

Ruby said softly in Norwegian, “He doesn’t matter. All that matters is finding Honey and Jonas and Nora.” Calle glanced down at her. Considering her situation, he was impressed with the determination in her voice.

Jones asked, “You said you had a lead, Ranger?” He’d obviously decided the discussion was over.

Calle studied the brothers. This was definitely not over. Bård was still thrashing against Ranger's cavemen and Vegard's face had gone completely neutral.

Ranger folded his arms and answered, “Yeah. Down this road. One of our psychics said our girl was this way. Supposed to be near some big temple. And Ruby there’s been pointing the same way. She says she can feel which way to her kids.”

Vegard grunted as the handcuffs finally opened and fell away from Ruby's wrists. He threw them aside and asked, “Is that true, Ruby?”

She nodded, no longer meeting Vegard’s gaze.

Bård hissed, “You can tell they’re alive? All three?”

Ruby nodded.

Bård froze a moment and then sagged, forcing his captors to hold him up. He let out a shaky breath and said, “When this is over, Ruby, we’re taking you home with us." He added in Norwegian, "We aren't letting Ranger get his hands on you again. I promise."

Ranger snorted and pointed a finger at Bård. “You cocky little shit-eating retard. I have Satan and the forces of Hell on my side. What's really going to happen is I'll take all three of you fucks back to the Church to burn. We'll do her first so you can watch.”

Calle muttered to Molly, "So I'm guessing Ranger over there is the bad guy?"

Molly chose that moment to drop her veil. Ranger and his cronies let out a little exclamation of surprise. Calle did as well. Instead of the grey sweatpants and hoodie she'd been wearing a moment ago, Molly now wore a snow-white fur-trimmed coat that shimmered like satin in the pink light of dawn. Her canvas duffle bag had been replaced with a crisp grey wool and leather backpack that matched tailored grey trousers and expensive-looking grey hiking boots. Her blond hair was pulled back into a French braid and dotted with scintillating diamonds. Even her flawless pale skin had taken on an ethereal luster. Calle blinked at her, disbelieving. She was spectacularly beautiful. How had he not noticed before?

The air went cold and sparkled with snowflakes. She said calmly, "Hello.”

Ranger squinted at her and Calle. “And who _the fuck_ are you two clowns?”

Molly nodded her head graciously and said, “I am the Winter Lady and this road you all stand upon belongs to the Winter Court."

“Nice try. Satan owns everything in Hell.”

Molly smiled, although she looked anything but friendly. “You are not in Hell any longer. You are in the Nevernever and you stand on Winter's road." The air went colder. Calle could see his breath. Scary.

Molly commanded, "Release that man."

Bård finally wrenched his arms free and the cavemen didn't try to stop him. He moved quickly past Ranger and knelt in front of Vegard and Ruby. He didn't seem interested in Molly's transformation. That was odd. Well, at least he wasn't trying to kill everyone.

And if Warden Jones was surprised, Calle couldn't tell. He was standing alert and watching Ranger, just as he had been. Calle made a mental note not to play poker with Jones.

Ranger nodded scornfully at Calle. "So who are you?"

Calle drew himself up. Showtime. He realized he looked just like Ylvis in his black assault gear, but he'd have to bluff it. With as much gravitas as he could muster, and with an English accent (that he was fairly sure was accurate), said, "I am... The Guardian."

"Guardian of what?"

Calle raised a brow. He couldn't think of anything but "the Galaxy" in English. So he said haughtily, "I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you."

Molly didn't miss a beat. She said, "And you, Ranger, are in Winter's domain. These people have permission to be here. You and your...  _associates_  do not."

Ranger scowled and clenched his fists. “You want to fight me, bitch? Your fancy clothes and tricks don't scare me.”

Ice began forming on the cobblestones under Molly’s feet; Calle could feel his toes chilling through his boots.

Molly said sternly, “You clearly haven’t heard of me. Or you’re an imbecile. Or both.”

One of the cavemen whispered something to Ranger that made him falter. He grunted and folded his arms again. “Whatever.”

Calle blinked and looked back at Molly. Why were the cavemen afraid of her? He'd wondered how far up the bullshit ladder this entire charade would go until someone called someone else's bluff. But maybe it wasn't bluff. He definitely should have stayed at home.

Jones said, "All this magic and yelling is going to attract attention. We should get going."

One of the cavemen was whispering to Ranger again. Although he hadn't taken his eyes off Molly, Ranger didn't look too worried. Finally he asked, "Well _, Your Highness,_ can I walk on your fucking road?"

Molly looked him up and down and then said, "Let's you and I make a deal, Ranger. You may walk on this road, but Ruby will stay in the Warden's care until her case can be decided by the Winter Knight. And when we find the children, you will owe me and the Winter Knight... a favor.

One of the cavemen tried to stop Ranger from speaking but he said, "Yeah, okay, whatever."

Molly smiled, her face sparkling with frost. "It's a deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, so can you tell that Ranger is a bad guy? Maybe it was all way, way too subtle and understated? I suppose I could have described him twirling a waxed mustache, juggling mewling newborn kittens, drowning puppies or kicking the canes out from under old ladies. I'll try harder next time!  
> ;-)
> 
> Oct 21 Edit: Ranger didn't really assault Ruby; he's just being a bastard and a bully because he's jealous of Vegard and because he's a jerk. I sorted that out in the original chapter but only now realized I moved that to the next chapter coming up. Sorry about that; I don't like to post upsetting material without warning you first. I put a warning in before the chapter not to believe Ranger; hopefully that helps keep this fun. <3


	20. Losing Vegard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegard makes a mistake.

 

While Molly negotiated with Ranger and his minions, Vegard tried to calm himself. He could tell Sif... Ruby... was badly hurt. He could heal her if he could just focus. He'd fixed Bård; he could do this.

Beside him, Bård stood as stiff as a pole, working his jaw and clenching and unclenching his fists.  

Vegard glanced up at him and said in Norwegian, "Come closer and calm down.  They're watching Ranger."

Bård knelt beside his brother and Sif, but he couldn't possibly relax.  Until now he'd been consumed with fear for Nora.  Where was she?  Was she alive?  The terrible possibilities gnawed at every thought he'd had since Maria's call. But when he’d seen Sif's pendant on Ranger's neck something had snapped. Ranger was alive? And he'd had Sif in his clutches again for who knows how long in this insane place?

Bård remembered the night he, Vegard and Sif had escaped from the cult as if it were yesterday. He'd stood over his brother's unconscious, bleeding body in the dead of night as Ranger had torn at Sif's clothing while she screamed and begged him to stop.  Bård could still feel the steel bar in his hand and the anger that had driven him to bludgeon Ranger into unconsciousness. Bård had been half-mad with a concussion and wild with fury; Sif had been only a little older than Bård's daughter Sofie was now.

Bård had been convinced he'd killed Ranger that night, and since then he'd done everything in his power to avoid killing anyone else. He'd refused military service. He'd submitted to drunken bullies in bars. His wife and children teased him for being a coward in the face of a fight. But he had never wanted to be put in the position of having to kill to protect himself or the people he loved.  His insane life had made avoiding conflict ridiculously difficult.

He feared his own rage.  Since Tokyo, more than ever.

But when he'd recognized Ranger in the scarred face of the man dragging Sif down that road, all of Bård's terror and rage fell into sharp focus on the man he'd thought he'd killed fifteen years ago.  In Bård's mind the sin of murder had already been committed.  Even now he hungered to blast Ranger into a smoking pile. It was only fifteen years of consciously avoiding mortal combat that was preventing him from committing murder again.

And now Ranger and the Church knew Sif was alive. Now Bård had to rescue his daughter and keep her _and_ Sif's family out of the Church’s clutches.

He was so angry he didn't trust himself to speak. So instead he grabbed Vegard's forearm.

When Bård let down the wall, Vegard choked and began sucking in air like a drowning man.

 _B: What's wrong with you?_  
_V: What's wrong with you?! Jeezus!_  
_B: Why can't you breathe?_  
_V: It's like you punched me in the chest._  
_B: I'm angry._  
_V: I'm angry too but I'm not trying to make your heart explode._  
_B: Don't exaggerate._

Sif asked, "Are you having trouble breathing?"

Vegard took in a slow breath and gasped, _"Nei,_ I'm fine."

 _B: Can you fix her?_  
_V: Look, just don't jump in and out like that when you're so emotional._  
_B: Fint. Sync up._  
_V: What are you doing?_  
_B: I'm being Ylvis. Sync up and fix her. Let me help. Hurry up._  
_V: Okay, but calm down._

Sif glanced between the brothers and asked in Norwegian, "What's happening?"

They answered in unison. "Shut up. We're going to heal you."

Sif frowned. "Don't tell me to shut up."

"Don't talk back."

"Why not?" She turned to Bård. "Why are you so angry at me?"

Bård glared at her but the brothers continued speaking quietly in Norwegian and in unison. "Because we tried to tell you the Church didn't have the kids and you wouldn't answer your _jævla_ phone. Now the Church knows you are alive and have children. Now they might come for you."

"I had to do it."

"Did he rape you?"

Sif scoffed. "Ranger would never touch me; he's too scared of me. He couldn't even beat me himself; he had another man do it."

"He tried to force you before."

Sif raised her chin. "You saw how he's been escorting me, bound and gagged.  And he still had to have four other guards with us.  He's pathetic."

"We'll kill him for what he did."

Sif clucked.  "He isn't worth the effort.  And you aren’t like that. You wouldn’t kill anyone. Even him.”

Both brothers were breathing and blinking together now, completely synced up, united in their fury.

 _B: He did._  
_V: She said he didn't._  
_B: He definitely did. I'm going to kill him._  
_V: Calm down, Bård.  You're getting me all worked up and I need to concentrate._  
_B: What if he finds Nora before we do?_  
_V: He wouldn’t know who she is. He doesn’t even know about Big Jens._  
_B: I haven't felt like this since Japan._  
_V: You're going berserk._  
_B:  Do you think so?_  
_V:  Ja, you're thinking so fast I can hardly follow you._  
_B: Look at her face. Even if he didn't do that himself.  Who would hit a woman like that?  He doesn’t deserve to live._  
_V: You can’t decide that._  
_B: One blast to his head. It would be so easy._  
_V: Didn't you read the brochure?_  
_B: Hæ?_  
_V: The brochure. With Christopher Walken?_  
_B: Of course I didn't read it._  
_V: You can't kill other humans with magic. It's an instant death penalty by a warden. No trial._  
_B: I won't need magic._  
_V: Listen to me. I'm angry too. But calm down._  
_B: I can't. Hurry up._  
_V: Calm down._  
_B: Fy faen, I'm calm!_

Bård released Vegard's arm (eliciting a aloud grunt of protest) and grabbed Sif's shoulders. He growled, "Where did he touch you?"

 _"Au,_ you're hurting my shoulders."

"Where?"

"I told you he didn't.  What's wrong with you?"

"We're helping you."

 _"Nei,_ you're hurting me. Don't let your demon take you, Bård."

Bård let go of Sif as if he'd been burned. He put his face in his hands, breathing hard.

Still wincing from the break, Vegard gingerly pulled the collar of Sif's robe down to look at her shoulder and breathed, _"Jesus Christ."_

Bård looked up and grimaced. Sif's skin was crisscrossed with dark welts. She curled up, trying to cover the marks with her hands, but she got them tangled up in the wide sleeves of her robe. She whispered, "Please, just stop. This doesn't matter."

Bård let out a slow breath. He met eyes with his brother and said, "I'm so angry it hurts."

Vegard nodded and said softly. _"Lillesøster._ Look at me."

Sif's ice blue eyes were lavender in the dawn light. She whispered, "Don't hate me for this. I don't care about this. I just want to find my babies."

"We will find the kids. And we don’t hate you. Let us help."

"How can you help any of this?"

Vegard sighed. "Bård, just... hold onto her. Gently. Just keep her still. Try to stay calm."

Sif's eyes widened. "What are you going to do?"

"We're not going to hurt you. Just trust me. Trust us."

She swallowed hard and murmured, "You two are the only family I have outside of Jens and my children."

Bård growled, "We know. That's why this makes us so angry."

"I just want to find my babies."

Vegard said, "Let me try to heal some of this. If you're strong you can help more."

"Bård told me you put his arm back on."

"I did. Where is your worst injury?"

Sif blinked and then smiled at Vegard with naked adoration.

Bård grunted, " _Jesus Christ,_ Sif, just say where you're hurt." He wasn't sure if he was more annoyed that Sif was so blatantly in love with Vegard or that Vegard didn't really see it. They were both such complete idiots.

Sif gazed at Vegard another moment and finally said, "I have two cracked ribs on the right, but I think the right upper kidney is bruised. I'm more worried about that."

"Okay. Bård? I don't think the others need to see what we're doing. Huddle up with her between us."

Bård nodded and pulled Sif into his lap as gently as he could manage. He hesitated and then gently rested his free hand on Vegard's forearm.

Vegard said, _"Takk_ for going easy on me."

Bård muttered through clenched teeth, "Go. Hurry up."

Vegard leaned forward and pressed one hand to the side of Bård's neck, the other to Sif's. He closed his eyes and felt for Sif's soul.

 

* * *

 

When the brothers finally sat back they looked up to find Calle and Molly grimly standing over them. Beyond them, Jones was staring down Ranger and his escorts.

Bård smoothed Sif's hair away from her face with his free hand. The bruises were gone.

 _B: That was amazing. You're amazing._  
_V: Drit i det._  
_B: You taught yourself to heal flesh like that?_  
_V: I guess so. At least you calmed down._  
_B: Ja. Somehow you took away my anger too._ _That was amazing._  
_V: Stop with the compliments._  
_B: But it truly was amazing._

Bård asked Sif in Norwegian, "How do you feel?"

She glanced shyly back at him and murmured, "Better. You both really love me. You two can never say it these days. But now I know."

Bård grunted with disgust, "Don't make it weird."

Vegard rolled his neck and shoulders and said, "It was already weird."

Sif smiled impishly and added, "You were both inside me."

The brothers groaned and in one motion stood, separated, and then yelped in pain.

Vegard pressed his hands to his temples, _"Oi oi oi oi._.. you have to warn me before you let go!"

Bård nodded and turned away, retching.

Molly put a hand on Vegard's shoulder, "What's happening?"

Vegard groaned, "We were synced up and we separated too fast. Usually I'm the only one that suffers but this time..." He motioned at his brother, still bent over and retching.

Molly pulled a bottle of water out of her duffel and handed it to Bård. "It's the Nevernever. The sooner we get out of here the better." She glanced down at Sif and gasped, "Your face! All the bruises are gone!"

Sif boggled for a moment at Molly's sparkling finery but allowed Molly to help her to her feet.

She curtseyed slightly and said, "Yes ma'am."

Molly rolled her eyes and said, "You can call me Molly.  Seriously."

Vegard declared in English, "I don't feel hungry this time."

Bård straightened and wiped his mouth. He said, "I also... do not feel hungry."

Molly asked softly, "Ruby? Can we continue?"

"Yes ma'am.  Molly.   I feel better."

Molly nodded and pointed at the Warden. She said, "This is Warden Jones. As long as you don't use magic to hurt anyone he'll protect you from Ranger. But you need to do what Warden Jones says. You can trust him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, thank you." Sif glanced at Ranger and his goons. She frowned and asked, "Weren't there four of those guards with us before?"

The others followed her gaze and Jones grunted, "Where's the other one? Did he run off?"

Ranger looked around in confusion and called out into the grass, "Hey!  Where are you?"

One of the remaining three burly guards yelped with surprise and abruptly disappeared backwards into the grass. There was a scream and blood sprayed back towards the group, painting the road red.

Jones cursed and drew his sword. "Dammit! I knew it. Everyone back to back!"

Calle pulled up his rifle. "What is it?"

"Something nasty. It was drawn here by the healing magic. Shoot at anything that moves."

"What about the two men that were grabbed?"

Jones hissed, "Dead already. Quiet."

The group stood tense, weapons drawn, listening for response. His nausea forgotten, Bård frantically surveyed the tall grass.  Time wasn't slowing down. Did that mean he was safe too?

The third caveman yelped as a black tentacle shot out from the grass, whipped around his waist and jerked him back into the grasses. The man's cry cut off abruptly with a sickening crunch.

Jones pushed Calle behind him and back towards Molly. "Veil! Now!"

Molly began chanting softly and the gentle sighs of the waving grass muted as the enchantment coalesced around the huddled group. Bård and Vegard had Sif squashed between them but she didn't complain. As they all pressed close, the last caveman disappeared into the grass. He hadn't even had time to scream.

Bård met eyes with Vegard.  Vegard shook his head slightly.  His mark's shield wasn't powering up either. 

Ranger hadn't been with them when Molly cast her veil, and he stood only a few meters from the group.  Now he whirled and swore. "Where is everyone?  Did you fuckers leave me alone here?!"

Vegard called out, "Over here!"

Jones hissed, "Be quiet! You want to be next?"

Ranger looked around frantically. "Where are you?"

Calle whispered, "Should we let him... ah... get killed?"

Jones glared at Calle. "Quiet!" 

Another two tentacles shot out of the grasses but this time they hesitated and groped around the cobblestone. Bård shuddered.  The ends of the tentacles looked a bit like hands. The ghastly fingers were joined with webbing and wrapped in dark scales and were tipped with yellowed claws. And there were overlong, dripping claws where the thumbs should have been.  As the things scratched at the cobblestones of the road Ranger backed away, farther and farther from the group. One monster withdrew into the grass but the other monstrous hand continued to explore the pathway, scrabbling at the stones, moving closer and closer to where Ranger stood.

Vegard was nearest to Ranger. He whispered, _"Helvete,_ " and before anyone could object, he took a long step forward, motioning to Ranger. "Get over here!"

Jones and Bård both reached forward to pull Vegard back, but not before something yanked him into the grass.

To Bård, time _finally_ slowed down as the first dark tentacle reappeared and wrapped itself tightly around Vegard's right thigh. Why wasn't Vegard's shield firing? Bård launched himself after his brother, his hand reaching out to grab Vegard's. He swore as their fingertips missed each other by millimeters. As Vegard was pulled away, his torso turned slightly and he met Bård's gaze for a moment. Vegard seemed more surprised than afraid. Bård concentrated and fired a blast at the muscular hand/snake around Vegard’s leg, but instead of injuring the creature, the energy merely spread over and across the monster's scales.  Vegard's shield finally fired as Bård's blast spread away from the monster and onto Vegard's leg.   And then he was gone.

The second tentacle turned away from Ranger and shot towards Bård, but Jones brought his sword down and lopped the scaled hand off, provoking a deep howl of pain from whatever it was that was still hidden in the grass. Jones shoved Bård back toward the others and he and Calle grabbed Bård's arms.

Bård tried to pull away, desperate to go after his brother.  They heard Vegard's rifle firing automatic bursts, already surprisingly distant.  Bård managed to twist out of Calle's grasp and fell hard to the ground.  He howled,  _"Faen!"_

The air went completely still.

Bård pushed himself up to his knees and blinked with confusion, feeling dazed. There was a cone of destruction ahead of him, perpendicular to the road and opposite to where Vegard had been taken. The grasses were gone for fifty meters ahead. In fact, everything was gone. All the remained was dry earth, glistening in the dawn's light with dark ice.  

Bård heard Vegard's rifle firing again, the sound drawn out over the slowly passing seconds. It fired three... four times. Then nothing. He clumsily pushed himself to his feet and staggered towards the sound. The ground lurched and he fell back to the ground. His face hit the road and time normalized.

Jones said tightly, "We're gonna have a lot of company. Move. Move!" He yanked Bård to his feet and pushed him forward. "No more magic!"

Bård slurred, "No!  We can't leave him!" Blood dripped down his chin; his lower lip was split open from the fall. 

Jones said, "Listen up, Squid. He's in shock or something. We're dragging him or leaving him. We have to go now or we're dead. Molly, we'll need your best veil in about thirty seconds."

Calle didn't understand what had just happened.  Somehow Bård had vaporized the grass and monsters beside the road. He looked at Molly for advice, but she stood stock still, holding her hands to her mouth with horror, her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey you two!  Snap out of it!  We have to go!"

Calle gulped and nodded at Jones.  "Okay.  Right."  Of course, Jones was right. If Vegard's magic had attracted the attention of the tentacle monster, Bård's blast would surely bring more. A lot more. He took hold of Bård's other arm and they began roughly pulling him forward.

They ran past Ranger, who stood gaping at them and the destruction Bård had caused.  He called out, "What was that? Hey, wait up!"

The air abruptly filled with horrible chittering and howling. Not that Calle needed any incentive to run. But he ran faster. He and Jones were practically carrying Bård between them.  He wasn't resisting them any more.  Calle glanced at Bård's face.  He just looked dazed.

They all sprinted for a minute or so before Jones held up his hand and hissed, "Okay. Veil. Keep moving. Slowly. Quietly."

Molly sniffed wetly and began chanting. Calle glanced behind them. Ranger was close on his heels, and past him the road was swarming with dark things the size of small cars.

Beside him Bård said in Norwegian, "We have to go after Vegard."

"What's he saying?"

Calle translated, "Bård wants to go back for Vegard."

Jones hissed, "He's dead already. Everyone quiet or we're next. I won't say it again."

Bård pulled weakly at his arms and moaned in English, "How do you know he's dead?"

Jones hissed, “That tentacle was attached to a claw laden with poison. Nerve toxin. Even a scratch would kill him quickly.”

Calle silently begged Bård not to fight, and Bård finally let out a sob of defeat.  Calle and Jones let go of his arms and he began walking ahead of them.  He was weaving a little drunkenly, and Calle braced to catch him if he fell.

As they continued to move quietly down the road, Calle could hear Bård breathing heavily, maybe crying.  At least that made sense. Calle couldn't believe Vegard was really gone. This surely had to all be some weird dream.

The cobblestone path finally curved and after a minute or so they were completely out of view from the monsters behind them. Jones nodded and said, "I think we're safe here. Stop for a moment.  Let's regroup."

Behind Calle, Ranger softly complained, "You fucks were going to let that thing kill me."

Bård whirled, stalked to Ranger and shoved him backwards. Ranger staggered slightly but regained his balance.  He pushed Bård in return, sending him to fall heavily on his backside. He stood over Bård and snarled, "What are you attacking me for?  I didn't eat your brother!"

"This was all your fault!"

Jones stepped forward and hissed, "Save this for later. We aren't out of danger yet."

Calle glanced at Molly.  She was wiping at her eyes with a snow white handkerchief, although for all her tears her makeup was still perfect.  He looked back at Jones. "I don't understand what just happened.  Why did it take the cavemen and Vegard but not him?"  He motioned to Ranger.

Jones said quietly, "Those weren't _cavemen_. They were demons. The monsters are drawn to magic and took them.  And your friend was oozing magic since we met back at the portal.  I'm surprised we weren't attacked earlier."

"But why not-"

"For all his bluster, Ranger here hasn't got a drop of magic in him."

Ranger glared at Jones but didn't disagree. 

Calle shook his head and offered his hand to Bård.  As he pulled him up Calle saw Bård had Sif's pendant in his hand. Bård swiped at his eyes and said, "Here, Ruby, this is yours..." He stopped short. "Where is she?"

Molly said quietly into her handkerchief, "Your sister ran after Vegard when he was taken."

Jones sighed. "Then she's dead too."

Bård shook his head violently. _"Nei... nei..."_  He staggered back in the direction from which they'd come and called out, "Ruby? Sif?! Vegard?!"

Jones grunted, exasperated, and grabbed Bård from behind in a sleeper hold, holding him fast until he slumped into unconsciousness.  Calle, his vision blurred by tears of sorrow, moved forward to help Jones pick Bård up in a fireman's carry.  

And so as the sun rose, the silent group continued their journey toward the Black Temple.  Towards the ones that might still be saved.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUNNNN!


	21. Monsters in the Grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif wants to save Vegard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are an American, then today, Election Day 2016, is going to be a rough day. We all need a little distraction.

[](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/Ystw21Grass_zpsenbr36pl.jpg.html)

When the monster grabbed Vegard, Sif gave chase without considering the danger to herself. Vegard was special. He wasn't allowed to die. He couldn’t be taken. He was too important.

The grass was higher than she could see, and it slapped at her face and her ankles as she fought her way toward the sound of Vegard’s struggles, pausing only once when his gun first sounded. By the second shot she was back on his trail. He couldn’t die. He wouldn’t die. She wouldn't let him.

She tripped over an unseen stone and her legs tangled up in her robe. But she realized that some the stalks were matted down, crushed by the beast as it moved.  Had Bård's blast injured it? Had it injured Vegard?

Vegard's gun fired again. She flattened for a moment and when the gun stopped she pushed herself up again, following the trail of crushed grass.

The thing was moving erratically, and its trail twisted and turned.  But she finally caught up.

The monster was squid-shaped, but with mechanical segmented legs like an insect. Four dark tentacles sprang from where the head should have been. Two of them were lying limp on the ground, one with its end cut off, the other oozing dark, stinking fluid from bullet holes along its length and on its body. The creature was lying on its side, its legs flailing.

Vegard's hair and clothing were covered with dirt and broken stalks of grass, and the monster was using one tentacle to alternatingly shake him like a doll and bludgeon him against the ground. The fourth tentacle darted in and out, hammering against Vegard's silvery shield.

Vegard's had both hands clutched around the end of the snake-like feeler holding him, and venom dripped from its claws only inches from his face. His beautiful face. How dare the thing touch him?

Sif's heart flooded with rage and indignation. She growled, "Allfather, hear me,” and encouraged the monster’s atoms to sublimate from solid to gas.

The monster disintegrated in a puff of air, along with a bubble several yards across on the ground. Vegard sprawled in the perfect, safe circle that remained. The spell had laid bare the dry earth and it glistened with a thin layer of ice.

Ruby silently thanked the Allfather, her most recent god of choice, and asked, “Are you hurt?”

Vegard blinked back at her. "Sif. How...?  What was that?!"

"You're safe now."

"Did you do that?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Was that magic? You do magic now?"

"It wasn't me. I prayed for help. Are you hurt?"

"So it was magic." Vegard scrambled to his feet, wobbled for a moment, and then half-ran, half-crawled toward her. "Be quiet. That warden said the monsters like magic." He grabbed her robe's sleeve and pulled her along with him.

"Wait, are you hurt?"

_"Jesus Christ._   Be quiet."

He dragged her back into the high grasses but stumbled and sprawled onto his face after only a few seconds.

Sif crawled next to him and whispered, "What's the matter? Are you hurt?"

"Just dizzy. Shut up!" Vegard grabbed her head, pulled her down to the ground and rolled, half covering her with his warm, wonderful, muscular body.

She realized there was movement only a few meters away. Some shadowed forms ran past. So she turned her head and whispered, "Are you okay?"

Vegard pressed his cheek against hers and breathed into her ear, “Don't. Move."

She shivered, savoring the sensation.

They both startled as the air vibrated with the sound of an explosion and a cry, followed by silence. They held their breath a moment, and then froze as the sound of a thundering stampede rumbled toward them. And then more of the squid monsters broke through the grasses. Vegard pressed Sif's head down, and she silently prayed to the Allmother for Vegard’s safety while trying to memorize the feeling of Vegard's body pressed to her own. The monsters ran past and over them as if they didn't exist.

After a long minute she whispered, "Are you hurt?"

"That cry sounded like Bård."

"He'll be okay. Are you hurt?"

Vegard rolled off of her and onto his back. He rubbed his chest with his right hand. "I don’t think so. What about you?"

Sif pushed herself to her elbows. The broken stalks of grass draped over them like angels’ wings. They would be safe. The Allfather would protect them. "I'm fine.”

Vegard held his left hand to his face, examining his graceful, long fingers with a frown in the dawn light filtering through the grass.   He was like an angel himself.  Or an elf.  He was so pretty.

He said, "I can't move my fingers."

Sif sat up cautiously and took his hand in her own. Despite the battering the monster had given him, there were no cuts or bruises. Only a bit of redness and dried skin on his palm. Vegard explained, "That's just eczema."

She whispered, "Haven't you been using that cream I made for you?"

"I've been busy."

"Did you get any of that venom on your hand? The skin is broken here."

"Maybe."

Sif thought a moment. If the venom was like a snake or frog's venom and it was paralyzing... that would be bad.  She hissed, "Give me your knife." She started unfastening Vegard's kevlar vest. The velcro closures were unnervingly loud. It had to be done.

"Why?"

"We have to get this off of you."

Vegard grunted and pulled the military knife out of its sheath with his good hand. He swallowed hard and rolled his head to look at her.

She reached over him to unfasten the closures on his other side. "Anything else frozen?

_"Nei?"_

She took the knife and cut the harness holding the now empty rifle slung across his chest. She lifted the front of the vest over his head and said, "Close your eyes."

He complied.

She used her nail to poke his fingertips. "Can you feel this?"

Vegard shook his head. "I don't feel anything." He rubbed his chest again. "It's hard to breathe."

Something rustled in the grasses.

Vegard pulled her down and breathed into her hair, "They were drawn by your magic."

Sif listened to Vegard's heart beat while she watched the rustling grass. Something was very close. A dark, turkey-sized bird peeked its head out, cocked its head at her and withdrew. She sighed with relief and said, "Something pulled the scarier monsters back toward the road. Maybe that was what we heard."

“I feel hot.”

Sif reluctantly sat up and put a hand to his forehead. "That rash you have might have absorbed the venom. You might be poisoned."

"Can you suck out the poison?"

Sif bit her lip, imagining the feeling of her lips on his skin. "That only works in movies."

Vegard moved his hand toward his mouth. "Then I'll suck it out."

She grabbed his hand. "It's already in your bloodstream. And it might be worse if you swallow it. I’ll try to clean it off."

She tore a rag off of one of the cleaner spots on her loose robe and wiped at the wound. Maybe she should at least try cleaning it with spit. Maybe she should lick it. No, that would be wrong. She needed to be alive for her children. She was being stupid and selfish as usual.

Vegard’s lips curled back from his perfect teeth in a grimace. "My tongue feels thick.”

"What about your arms?"

"Heavy." He let them fall to his sides.

"What else is in your pockets? Do you have anything liquid?"

"There's a little bottle of sanitizer in my jeans."

She dug at the pocket and said irritably, "Why do you have all this stuff jammed into your pants?"

"I like to be prepared."

"You could have put them into the vest."

"They were already in my jeans."

"Then you shouldn't wear such tight jeans." Sif finally pulled the little bottle loose. She squirted the sanitizer on his hand and wiped at it with another rag from her robe. She asked, "You healed my kidney but you don't fix your eczema?"

"It doesn't bother me."

Sif frowned, angry at Vegard's carelessness. His little rash might have just killed him. She said, "Can you fix it now?"

Vegard coughed. "I can't feel it. It's hard to breathe."

"Can't you wish away the poison?"

"I've never tried to do something like that."

"Try. Does anything else hurt? Anywhere? The monster was really pounding you."

_"Nei._ My mark protected me." Vegard grunted. _"Oi oi oi oi_ , Sif. I can't move either of my arms. My legs are heavy too."

"It's a paralyzing venom. Hold on." She shifted her position, closer to his head. "Here, get comfortable. I might have to breathe for you."

"If those things come back... you should run."

She pushed his hair back from his forehead and whispered, "You aren’t the boss of me."

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Bård's a bad influence on you.” His dark eyes sparkled with tears. He must be in pain. Or afraid. He shouldn’t be afraid. He wouldn’t die. She’d protect him.

She thought a moment and then explained, “The paralysis might only last a few minutes.”

He gasped, "It feels like... a cold wet blanket... is covering me."

"Is there a metallic taste in your mouth?"

Vegard whispered, _"Nei._ You're so calm."

Her stomach flipped. He was considering her, analyzing her actions. He didn’t think of himself. He was amazing.  She whispered, "Panicking won’t help, _storebror_. If the poison paralyzes your ribs you won't be able to breathe."

"That sounds bad."

"Maybe. But I can help you breathe. I'll help you until Bård and the others find us."

"Won't my... heart stop?" Vegard coughed weakly.

This couldn’t be right. Vegard couldn’t die. She’d saved him all those years ago for a reason. He'd saved the world. He was everything. He was important. The gods wouldn't let him die.

She swallowed hard. "Your heart won’t stop. I'm good at my job, Vegard. You'll be just like an anesthetized goat. I won't leave you."

Vegard smiled, but he labored to breathe and didn’t speak. She ground her teeth. She wanted to hear his angelic voice. This couldn’t be the end for him.

Sif rested her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beating. It wouldn’t stop. She said softly, “For as long as you’re conscious, concentrate on driving out the poison. Or send it somewhere where it can’t kill you. Like your hand or foot or your bladder. Okay?”

Vegard didn’t answer. He closed his eyes, frowning.

"You still might be able to see, and swallow... if you can't... just trust me." Sif leaned low, listening for his breath. He still had a pulse but his breathing had gotten so shallow he'd stopped talking.

She breathed, “I won’t leave you, ever. Even if you seem dead and can’t move or talk. I love you and I won’t leave you. I’m going to help you breathe now. Try not to fight me. Concentrate on driving out the poison.”

She positioned herself over him, drank in a deep breath, pinched his nose and locked her lips over his. This wasn’t the way she’d imagined kissing him. Not like this. She couldn’t lose him.

She backed off a few inches, letting his chest fall and kneeled forward again. She hoped Bård would find them soon. She worried her small lungs wouldn't be enough to fill Vegard's larger lungs properly. She gave him another breath. She couldn't let him die. No matter what. Even if she had to fight Satan Himself. Even if she had to destroy the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Sif/Ruby is an excellent veterinarian, even if she is a little bonkers. :-)


	22. I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has someone else's dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while so here's a big long chapter in three parts, each told from a different character's point of view.

[ ](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/Ystw4_22Squirrel_zpsyde5wohp.jpg.html)

JONAS

Jonas glanced at the girls as the soldiers led them through the enormous dark wood doors and into the fortress. Honey and Nora were holding hands, although Honey yawned and rubbed her eyes as they followed the armed men.

Jonas frowned. How could his sister be sleepy at a time like this? She had seemed so frightened before. His mother had taught him that fear was supposed to wake you up, make you stronger and faster. Not sleepy.

The other children that had been in the truck with them were also staggering along in a daze. What was the matter with everyone? He thought about the little bottle of water he'd shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. The soldiers had told them to drink that water. But Jonas hadn't touched his water bottle yet. Was it drugged?

They shuffled along shiny red marble floors, passing elaborate statues partially hidden in arched recesses along the walls. Jonas squinted at one of the sculptures; it depicted a smiling, dancing young woman, one arm flung over her head, her skirts twirling around her.

Jonas asked, "Is this a palace, sir?"

The soldier beside him grunted. "Museum. Safe for kids. Here we are."

The other soldier opened one of two heavy oak doors that led to a large room with an arched wooden ceiling. It reminded Jonas a bit of a stave church. There weren't any stained glass windows or crosses but the walls were covered with elaborate carved patterns. Maybe it was a chapel? But there were no pews on the well-worn wooden floors. Instead, bunk beds were lined against the walls.  Floor pillows and books were scattered on a round rag rug in the center of the room. A few children around Jonas's age were sitting quietly and reading, but most were napping, either on the floor or in the beds.

A woman wearing green scrubs, presumably a nurse, was sitting behind a desk near the doors. The new arrivals were lined up so she could check them in, assign bunks and issue each child a little green wristband.

As they waited their turn, Honey yawned loudly and swayed a little. Jonas put an arm around her and whispered, "Give me your water bottle, Honey."

She handed it over; it was only a quarter full.

Nora bent to look curiously at Honey and then asked Jonas, "What's wrong with her, do you think?"

Jonas glanced at the soldiers that stood nearby. They were out of earshot. He leaned towards Nora and whispered, "Don't drink that water."

Nora's eyes widened and she stared down at the mostly full bottle in her free hand. She whispered back, "Drugged?"

"Think so. Act sleepy."

Nora nodded and stepped in front of them both. When it was her turn to be checked in she yawned while giving her name.

The nurse, a beautiful blond woman that reminded Jonas a bit of his mother asked, in English, "Ylvisssåker? Are you related to thossse Mothra brothersss?" She whistled a bit as she pronounced each S.  

Nora looked back at Jonas and rolled her eyes. "My father and uncle." She gestured at Jonas and Honey. "These are my cousins."

Jonas winced. As long as he could remember, his parents had made it very clear that their relationship to _The Uncles Ylvis_ was a secret. Maybe the drugged water was a truth serum? Nora surely knew better. But the damage was done. So he shrugged and nodded at the nurse.

She bent to open a desk drawer and took out three white plastic strips. "You three need white wrissstbandsss."

She fastened them around Nora and Honey's wrists. When Jonas held out his arm to her she snapped the last one on, but she startled and sucked in a breath. She stood up like a shot and leaned in unnervingly close, her nose near his ear.

"What isss thisss? I can sssmell it. A moussse?"

Jonas tried to back up but she had an iron grip on his forearm. "Just my pet squirrel, ma'am."

Fregne began frantically burrowing down the back of Jonas's shirt. She was terrified. And her little nails were scratching the hell out of his skin.

"You can't bring a pet here!" She looked accusingly at the soldiers and hissed, "No petsss!"

One of the soldiers blanched. "Sorry, ma'am, I didn't see any pet."

Jonas shuddered sympathetically with Fregne. He said, "Please, ma'am, my squirrel, she has nowhere else to go. She's tame. They didn't know I had her in my sweatshirt. We were playing when they came to rescue us. Please ma'am? You're hurting my arm."

The nurse turned back to glare at him, her yellow-green eyes dilated wide. But she hesitated and let go of his wrist, licking her lips. She gathered herself and said calmly, "Thisss man will take it to... our vet. For quarantine. If the vet clearsss it you will get it back in a week."

"My mother is a vet. I know my squirrel's healthy."

The nurse narrowed her eyes at him. "Do not argue. Quarantine. Now."

"But-"

"If you would rather we kill it right now we can."

"No, no, okay here she is." Jonas extracted Fregne out of his sweatshirt and handed her carefully to the soldier. The squirrel was trembling and clung to Jonas's fingers as the man pulled her away. He clicked at her reassuringly and said, "Please, sir, take care of her, she's only a baby."

"Yeah, yeah. I understand." The soldier turned and disappeared through the doors. Jonas had a sinking feeling he would never see Fregne again and immediately regretted not fighting for her. His mother would have fought for her, wouldn't she have?

When Jonas turned back toward the others, Nora took his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back. And as the three walked hand-in-hand toward the other children, he made a decision. He'd fight anyone that tried to take Honey or Nora away. His mother had told him to use magic only as a last resort. Only in an emergency. This was an emergency.

 

* * * * *

* * * * *

BÅRD

_In his dream, Bård ran toward the tangle of bicycle and arms and legs lying in the middle of the road. He was going to be in trouble if his brother had gotten hurt riding off the ramp he'd built. Well, they'd both built it. His brother was pretty good with tools considering how little he was. And he would never have let his brother talk him into the silly project, but he'd been so excited to try to some stunts they'd seen on television that he couldn't refuse. He could talk him into anything._

_He stopped short and looked down. He saw a child's legs protruding from under the twisted bicycle. There was blood on the pavement. That was probably bad._

_He bent down and carefully lifted the bike off of the victim. Young Bård looked up at him, bright red blood pouring from his mouth._

_Bård frowned, confused. He held out his hands. He had young, smooth hands. He looked down at his younger self and said, "You're bleeding. Is anything broken?" His voice was too high. And it was Vegard's voice. Ah. Made sense. He was in Vegard's head. He hadn't dreamed of being in Vegard's head for months._

_Little Bård shook his head, but he was crying too much to say anything coherent. He was drooling blood. And he'd torn his shirt at the elbow; there was blood there as well. They were going to be in major trouble with Mamma._

_Vegard pulled off his grey hoodie, rolled it into a ball, and told his younger self to press it against his face. Maybe if they could get the bleeding to stop before their mother saw it she would go easier on them._

_Little Bård was still crying. So he squeezed his younger self's shoulder and said, "That was an amazing jump. You must have gotten two meters into the air before you crashed."_

_Little Bård stopped sobbing for a moment and looked up at him hopefully with his round blue eyes. Through the bunched hoodie he said, "Thallahthuh?" and then put his hands to his chin, in too much pain to say more._

_Vegard said, "I'm absolutely serious. I wish I'd had a camera to take a photo. It was really impressive."_

_Little Bård straightened. If he weren't bleeding everywhere, he would have been smiling. Probably. At least he'd stopped wailing so loudly. Maybe he bit his tongue again._

_Vegard heard their mother's voice shriek, "Herregud!" and he turned to see her rushing out of the house toward them. They were going to get yelled at. He hated when his mother yelled at him._

_He felt a tug at his sleeve. Little Bård looked up at him, worried. That's right. Bård had gotten in trouble the previous week for breaking off one of the sofa's arms while doing tumbling tricks over it; he'd probably face hell from Pappa for today's accident._

_As the older brother, Vegard knew what he had to do._

_He said, "Mamma! I'm so sorry. This was all my idea. I think he hurt his mouth. It's my fault."_

His mother frowned at him and said, "You know better than this, Vegard. We'll talk about this later."

_Vegard did know better. He always did. But he nodded and winked down at his younger self, who winked back and squeezed his hand. Vegard loved his little brother; of course he'd taken care of him. He always would._

 

Bård blinked awake. His head hurt. Someone had him in a fireman's carry and they were walking along the cobblestone road again. It was morning. The sky was fairly clear. It would be a nice day.

Then he remembered. It wasn't going to be nice at all.

He closed his eyes again, thinking of the dream. It was like the ones he and Vegard had unintentionally shared months ago, where they could see in each other's heads. In each other's memories. Dreams were disorienting enough; he'd often woken from those dreams not sure if he were Vegard or himself.

But Vegard was gone now. He'd resisted Vegard's intrusions before, but now...

His brother was dead. Bård opened his eyes and the road blurred under his carrier's feet. He'd watched Vegard die over and over in Tokyo, Bob the demon tormenting him with the vision. You'd think it wouldn't be so bad losing him again after all that. But it was worse. And this time Vegard had taken Sif with him. No. It couldn't possibly be true. Bård hadn't actually seen them die. In this crazy place maybe anything was possible. He hadn't seen them killed.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, opening his mind. _"Vegard? Are you out there? Can you hear me?"_

Nothing. But a sharp pain shot through his right shoulder. It was a familiar pain. It was just phantom pain from the injury he'd gotten in Japan. He'd seen several specialists over the last year and they'd all said the same thing: no evidence of any damage. Not even a scar. The pain was all in his head. But now it hurt and he said out loud, "Put me down."

Warden Jones grunted, "About time," and put him down on the path flat on his back.

Bård winced and rolled his shoulder. It really hurt.

A big head blotted out the sky above him. Calle. Calle put a finger to his lips and whispered, "Don't make any noise or Jones will knock you out again.

Bård whispered. "How long was I asleep?"

"Not long."

Bård rolled his face to the side, and when his ear made contact with the ground he heard... opera? He pressed his ear down. Definitely opera.

Calle cleared his throat. "What are you doing?"

"I think I hear Mozart. Can you hear that?"

 _"Nei._ Bård. You need to stand up."

Bård shushed his friend and listened. The sound was gone. He blinked as something wet hit his cheek. He squinted up at his friend and realized Calle was weeping. "You're dripping on me."

"It happens."

"Are they both really dead?"

"They couldn't have survived."

 _"Jesus Christ._ Where's her pendant? I had it in my hand."

"Here."

Bård's hand closed over the cool metal. He'd bring it back to Big Jens. That was something to do. He needed to _do_ something.

Jones knelt down on Bård's other side. He said, "Get up. We gotta get your daughter."

The fog in Bård's head lifted. Nora. She was waiting for him. And he'd promised Maria he'd bring Nora back safe and sound. He'd be upset about Vegard and Sif later. They might not even be dead. He just had to do something.

He just had to keep it together.

He'd had a lot of practice pretending to be happy when he wasn't. _All the world's a stage._ "Help me up."

Calle pulled Bård to his feet. He wobbled a bit and a beefy hand steadied him. Ranger's hand.

Bård spat, "Don't touch me!"

Ranger pulled away but said meekly, "Sorry. Listen, you really are truly Called. I saw your power. Look... I'm... sorry about your brother getting killed."

Bård choked back bile. Did Ranger pity him now? Or worship him? Both ideas were infuriating. He longed to drown Ranger in flames. No. Nora first. If Vegard was right, if he injured Ranger then Jones would cut him down and then there'd be no one to take Nora home. He'd do it later when Jones wasn't looking. First find Nora. Then get home. Then kill Ranger. Prioritize. He looked up at Ranger, still looking at him sorrowfully with his big mangled face.

So Bård hissed, "Fuck off and die."

Ranger put up his hands defensively. "Shit. Okay. Okay. Anything you say."

Jones leaned in and said, "Let's move. No noises, no magic."

Bård nodded and began moving, shuffling a bit drunkenly at first but gaining strength with each step. He had to find Nora and Sif's kids. Get home. Kill Ranger. Focus. Get the job done.

He heard a wet sniffle. He shot a glare at Calle, walking beside him, crying and swiping at his nose. The sound was irritating. Vegard wasn't even Calle's brother. Calle didn't have the right to mourn him. That was Bård's right.

But Bård didn't feel like crying. He felt like screaming. Or punching a tree. But he didn't want to get choked out by Jones again. No screaming. No punching. He clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palm. Just meet the next objective. Stay alive. Get Nora. Get home. Kill Ranger. Keep up the act. Stay on task.

Bård ground his teeth. Wouldn't he be able to tell if Vegard had died? Would he lose his powers? If anything, Bård felt more powerful with every passing moment. Shouldn't the magic strength have been halved? Or was it all inside him now? Was he twice as strong? Too bad he couldn't ask Mothra... Blueberry... Where was she in all of this? She'd said she'd protect them. Why hadn't she protected Vegard?

He shook himself and rolled his right shoulder. It hurt like hell. Don't think about it. Stay on task. Find Nora.

He drew in a long, cleansing breath. The air here in Hell was actually very fresh. Almost like being in the mountains. _Fy faen_ what was he going to tell his mother? _"Sorry Mamma, I let Vegard be eaten by a monster."_ She would be beside herself. She'd always liked Vegard best because he'd always worked incredibly hard. Too hard, really. Because of Vegard, Bård had left his family for months at a time to work on some project or another. Vegard always pushed him. Because everything had to be as perfect as possible or Vegard would be unhappy. Stupid Vegard. Why had he stepped away to save Ranger? He could have let him die. Now he was gone. What about Helene and their kids? Bård dreaded telling Helene. Would she move back to Bergen? He didn't like the idea of losing touch with Vegard's children. Since Tokyo they felt like his own. Maybe he could buy a bigger place and have them move in; Maria might like the company. And he would just do producing. Or maybe just sell the production company and go back to school. He was still young. He could start over.

Calle touched his shoulder and Bård snapped, "Don't touch me."

"I just thought you might... ...you know... about Vegard and your sister and..."

Bård cut him off. "Vegard was an idiot. If he hadn't stepped out of the camouflage he'd be alive. And he killed her. It's his own stupid fault. "

"Okay." Calle held up his hands and drew away. He fell in step behind Bård.

Over the next hour Jones visibly relaxed and didn't look daggers at them if they made noise. Better yet, the tall grasses beside the cobblestone path gave way to rockier ground, with little flowers and mosses the only visible plant life. With the better view, they all relaxed.

But Bård didn't really see any of it. He spent much of the time wondering if the monsters had eaten Vegard and Sif whole, or had just torn at their bodies. He frowned at the mental image. He felt sick to think they might have still been alive when the monsters ate them. Once Nora was safe he'd have to go back and see if he could find any remains. He probably owed that much to Helene and Big Jens. Stupid Vegard. He had no common sense. _Faen,_ he'd been looking at the moon when they stepped into this place.

_"Bård? Where are you?"_

Bård stopped short and called out, "Here!" The group stopped.

Molly asked, "What is it?"

"I heard Vegard's voice." Bård whirled, searching the rocky terrain.

The others exchanged looks.

Molly said gently, "When a person is asleep or dying they can communicate more easily. You know, telepathy."

"I understand. This was different."

Molly looked to Jones for help.

He tilted his head at her. "Don't look at me."

Molly said, "Reading minds... it's especially easy in the Nevernever. Maybe you heard his last thoughts."

Bård nodded uncertainly and the group began walking again.

 _His last thoughts._ Bård chewed his lip. Were Vegard's last thoughts that Bård had abandoned him? He thought of Vegard's surprised face as the monster had pulled him away. Surprise. Not fear or anger. Had it not occurred to Vegard he was in danger? Maybe he'd gotten complacent because of the ward he'd been given. His shield always had protected him.

He frowned and jogged forward to walk between Jones and Molly. He asked, "Why didn't Vegard's shield activate when that monster grabbed him?"

Jones grunted. "What do you mean?"

"Vegard had a tattoo, a ward. Like mine. It always made a shield when something attacked him. Like the ones he made during the fight with the kidnappers. Those cavemen were beating on Vegard's shield on the road, do you remember?"

"They weren't cavemen. They were brute demons."

Bård persisted, "Why didn't his ward work?"

Jones frowned and looked across him at Molly. He said, "I don't know. Maybe the matawyrm wasn't trying to kill him."

Bård nodded. "Right. Maybe it just wanted to grab him. Take him somewhere. Or get his attention. Vegard had been practicing sensing animals. Reaching out."

"Yeah, he was _reaching out_ this entire time. He was leaking so much magic it's a wonder we didn't get attacked earlier."

Bård faltered. "What do you mean?"

Jones glanced at him. _"I mean.._. that your brother was sending a continuous and open invitation for anyone with the tiniest bit of magical know-how to join him in a big magical hug. Amateur."

Bård started to reply and Jones cut him off, adding, "And _you_. You gotta wall up around you that might as well be a neon sign saying, _Hello, I don't know what I'm doing, but I sure don't want anyone giving me a big magical hug."_

"That isn't true."

Jones shook his head, and picked up his pace, striding ahead of them and muttering, "Damn amateurs going to get us all killed."

Molly offered, "It doesn't matter, Bård. It isn't your fault you two haven't had any formal training."

Bård pushed his hands through his hair. "Okay.  Okay, you said when people sleep they can do telepathy."

Molly nodded sympathetically.

 _"Jesus Christ._ We've been having nightmares together for the last year. Maybe my defenses are down when I sleep. Maybe I was having his nightmares."

Molly thought a moment and said, "Or maybe someone else is communicating with you both when you sleep."

Bård gave her a scornful smile and threw his left arm into the air, saying dramatically, "Of course! Maybe Jesus is talking to us in our sleep to let us know he really hates us."

Molly drew back. "I don't think He would do that. But a demon might."

Bård laughed mirthlessly. "Why not? Everybody wants Ylvis to save the world. Maybe Satan is trying to get us to give up so he can finally end it all..." He broke off. Bob was almost always in his nightmares. Bob was under the ocean somewhere. Could he have been taunting them in their sleep through some magic?

Calle suddenly appeared beside Molly and asked, "What are you talking about? It sounds serious."

Molly sighed. "We were talking about Vegard."

Bård shook himself and said, "Calle.  I _know_ I just heard him. And my shoulder hurts like a motherfucker. I dreamed I was Vegard. And I heard Mozart."

Calle said kindly, "You do realize that makes no sense, right?"

Molly sighed, "Maybe Vegard isn't dead yet."

Jones turned his head and said, "He's dead. Even if that matawyrm didn't kill him outright then it took him somewhere to store for its next meal."

Calle said hopefully, "So he's still alive?"

Jones shook his head. "You heard the gunfire. If he wounded the wyrm it would have attacked him. And if it did his ward would have discharged a shield, and that would have attracted more of the beasts. Eventually the ward would fail and that would be the end."

Molly stopped short.

Jones sighed and stopped as well. He turned towards her and asked, "What now?"

She said, "If there was any possibility of them surviving, why didn't you say so?"

Jones sighed, "You were there. We had to retreat."

Ranger added, "At least those things weren't interested in eating me."

The four turned slowly to look at Ranger. He'd caught up.

Jones said deliberately, "No. They didn't want you."

Ranger shrugged, "I guess it's a benefit of being one of The Faithful."

Jones shook his head. "No. Like I said, they didn't want you because you have no magic power at all. They're only interested in eating magic."

Calle raised a tentative hand and said, "So we have to go back. They might both still be alive in one of Vegard's bubbles."

Jones sighed. "The chances of him or that girl being alive were a million to one. They are zero now. And we've got at least fifty kids up ahead that need extraction. My responsibility is to those kids."

Calle shook his head, "We've got to try. We've got to go back."

"No. We've got to go forward. I can see the Black Temple from here."

Bård whipped his head around, searching. "The Black Temple? Where is it?"

Jones pointed. "That gold spire over there about a kilometer to our right."

A golden spire corkscrewed toward the morning sky. Bård's heart raced. He could find Nora. Task one. He could do that. He said, "I see it."

Jones added, "It's in a valley. That's the top of the main building."

Molly said, "We'll get the kids and then go back for Vegard and Ruby."

Calle shook his head. "It might be too late then. I'm not magic. I could go back."

Molly rested a hand on his shoulder. "You'll get lost. Nothing here is what it seems. Even the road itself isn't really here unless we make it show itself."

"But-"

Bård barked, "We get Nora first.  Then Vegard."

Molly nodded. "We'll go back as soon as we're sure the children are okay. Have faith in your friend's power, Calle. If he's still alive now then he can hold out."

Calle nodded despondently and the group moved toward the distant spire.

 

* * * * *

* * * * *

VEGARD

_Sif gave him another breath..._

Vegard couldn't move. He couldn't see. He could move his eyes but he couldn't hold his lids open. And there was a little rock or stick poking his right shoulder, just past the armhole of his kevlar vest. It hurt. That was good, wasn't it? He could feel again, even if he couldn't move. He could feel Sif's hands on his chin and nose. He'd lost count of the breaths she'd given him. Had he been paralyzed for five minutes or five hours?

_Breath..._

When she'd started breathing for him, he'd choked and coughed, his lungs resisting her efforts. It had only been a few breaths before his body couldn't resist any longer. Intellectually, he knew she wouldn't leave him, but he was terrified every time she pulled away to take a breath of her own.

_Breath..._

What if another monster appeared? If she ran away he would die. If something killed her he would die. If she passed out he would die. If she got tired he would die. He was going to die. This was prolonging the inevitable. The rock under his shoulder hurt. She'd said panicking wouldn't help.

_Breath..._

Vegard had taken CPR classes, and he knew mouth-to-mouth was hard work. She would tire and that would be the end. He'd read a news report once that a man gave his friend CPR for ninety minutes. That had been a young man. Sif was a tiny woman.

_Breath..._

Of course Sif wasn't doing compressions. Maybe she could last longer than ninety minutes. The rock in his shoulder felt like a knife. Surely he was bleeding. Through his closed eyes he could tell the sun had risen. How long had it been?

_Breath..._

Sif was moving his legs. Was there something on his legs she was wiping away? Was he lying in something? He wondered if he'd lost control of his bladder. He didn't feel wet.

Why wasn't she giving him a breath? Maybe she was catching her breath. Maybe she couldn't go on. He needed air. Maybe she thought he was dead. He struggled to tell her. He concentrated his will. Just one noise would let her know. He couldn't make a sound. He was going to die and he wouldn't be able to -

_Breath..._

_Oi oi oi oi oi..._ Panic won't help. It won't help. She said she wouldn't leave him. Where was Bård? That had surely been his voice before that explosion. Maybe he was dead. Bård wouldn't leave him out here. Well, not usually. Since they'd gone through the portal Bård had been acting very strangely. Very cocky. Almost drunk. Almost like he'd been in Tokyo. Almost like...

_Breath..._

 

...

 

_He saw himself, much younger, sitting in an airplane. A child's hand reached out to touch his arm and his younger self turned to look at him with a smile. Teen Vegard said softly, "Everything's going to be better now, Ruby. They can't ever hurt you again. Just like I promised. I'll protect you. You'll be safe."_

 

...

 

_He heard a rushing sound, like wind, and then Bård's voice. No, it was the demon with Bård's voice. It hissed into his ear, "You can't save yourself, can you? I've almost got you now. And then I'll take her, and your brother, and all of the children. You can't protect any of them. And you will serve me for eternity."_

 

...

 

_He blinked groggily into the near darkness. Something above him flickered. A candle? Where was he? He tried to rub his face but his wrists were heavy with chains and fixed to a stone floor. He was propped up against a wall. And his right shoulder hurt like hell. He looked up. There were two men murmuring to each other. One of them was... himself. He said wearily, "Vegard?"_

_His other self's eyes widened with horror and Other Vegard rushed to kneel in front of him, pulling uselessly against the chains holding him down. He looked at his shoulder. A long, ugly black spike was driven through his shoulder and into the wall behind him.  Ah.  Made sense.  He was having one of Bård's dreams._

_The other Vegard seemed frantic and asked, "Bård! What happened? What is this?"_

_Vegard looked down at his own hands. Spiderlike black veins covered the skin. And they weren't his hands. They were Bård's hands._

_Behind the other Vegard stood the Demon Bob, wearing Bård's face and dark gold chainmail. Bob snarled and violently grabbed Other Vegard by the hair and dragged him to a wooden washtub that sloshed with black water._

_Vegard said, with Bård's voice, "Please. Not again."_

_The demon grinned and forced the other Vegard's head into the washtub._

_And Vegard watched himself splash and struggle and finally drown._

 

...

 

Vegard swam back to consciousness. Was he still asleep? He couldn't move. Something was touching his face. Someone. Kissing him. Helene? Had he been dreaming? Was all of that a dream? Was he still Bob's prisoner? Was Bård still possessed? Could a whole year pass in a dream?

_Breath..._

Oh. Right. Paralyzed. He was so tired. Maybe his heart couldn't take the stress. It would be such a mercy to fall asleep again. He'd rather be asleep. His shoulder throbbed.  The rock. He didn't think he'd hated anything the way he hated that rock. It must be the size of his fist. His arm would surely be paralyzed after this...

_Breath..._

He was so tired.

_Breath..._

 

...

 

_He couldn't breathe. The cracking of the Canadian ice sounded like gunshots and cold water rapidly filling the little airplane was so shockingly cold he thought his ribs were surely paralyzed. The hijacker had zip tied his ankles and wrists and he couldn't move his arms or legs. With the plane on its side he'd gotten awkwardly jammed into the space between the seats and the floor. The water was past his waist now. And his chest. His neck. He was going to drown._

_He tried to scream, "Help me!" but all that came out was a squeak. He gazed hopelessly up at the winter sky in the plane window above him._

_And then the pilot's door opened and he saw his own curly head silhouetted in the opening.  Ah.  Right.  Vegard was in another one of Bård's dreams._

_The other Vegard reached down and grabbed his leather jacket's collar with his right hand. He yanked him bodily out of the water and the plane, dragging and then throwing him onto the snowy ground as behind them the plane sank into the icy water. The other Vegard was holding a bloodied left arm to his side. He'd pulled him out with one arm. Like Spider-Man. He was amazing._ _At that moment Bård had loved his brother more than he ever had or ever would.  He was his hero.  He would never leave him._

 

...

 

_Breath..._

Was he awake or asleep?  It didn't matter.

 

...

 

_Vegard saw himself through Sif's eyes at her old apartment in Oslo, playing with her two older kids, just toddlers back then. He remembered the day. It had been a warm summer afternoon; he'd taken off a few days to visit her during a break in her classes. Sif had thrown the windows open, the sun warming the wood floors, the room smelling of lemons. He saw himself holding up Honey's hands as she tried to walk, her baby legs wobbly over one of Sif's homemade blue and white rag rugs. The baby fell into his arms and he picked her up and held her above his head, laughing, praising her. His younger self turned toward him, smiling wide, saying, "You're so lucky, Sif, she's beautiful. I can't wait to have a little girl of my own!"_

 

...

 

_Breath..._

How much longer could Sif last? Since she'd begun breathing for him she hadn't said a word. Conserving her breath. Maybe it wasn't even her anymore. Maybe the others had found them and were taking turns.

_Breath..._

It felt like Sif's lips. Or at least a woman's. If Bård or Calle were breathing for him he'd be able to feel stubble, surely. He was so tired.

_Breath..._

So tired. He coughed.

"Vegard? Try to take a breath."

So it was Sif. Didn't she understand he couldn't move?

_Breath..._

He coughed again. Saliva was pooling in the back of his throat. He swallowed.

Sif urged him, "Breathe! The poison is wearing off. Concentrate on breathing."

Sif was tired. He could hear it in her voice. He was tired too. But when she gave him the next breath he coughed and couldn't stop coughing.

"Take a deep breath."

She rolled him onto his side and off of the rock. Vegard wanted to cry with relief. At least now he wouldn't die with the damned rock in his back. His cheek was wet. He was crying. He was so happy. He'd hated that rock so much. No more rock.

"Take a breath. Come on, a nice deep one."

Vegard drew in a shaky breath. It was woefully shallow, but it was his own.

"Don't try to speak. Big breath for me."

He had to breathe for himself or she might roll him on his back again. Onto his mortal enemy the rock. He struggled to breathe. He swallowed again and opened his eyes. Sif's knees. She was kneeling beside him. She hadn't left him. He could see. He slid his gaze up.

She looked exhausted. How long had she breathed for him? But she smiled and patted his shoulder. " _Storebror._ You'll be okay now. Swallow and take another breath."

He nodded.

She laughed softly, still catching her breath. "Bård was right. You do only think about planes." At his expression she explained, "Every time you passed out you dreamed of flying in different planes."  She stroked his arm. "Don't worry, I still love you. Try to move your toes and fingers."

Vegard saw something move in the sky beyond her. Was that Bård? Not Bård. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe he was still asleep.

Sif said, "Vegard, come on, big breath or I'll give you another of mine."

The shadow was still there. It was a person. A woman. A woman with a mantle of shining golden hair. If he had been able to, he would have cried with relief. It was Blueberry, Mothra in her human form.

Blueberry said softly, her voice musical and light, "Breathe. Be strong."

He sucked in air but still couldn't manage a sound.

Blueberry's hair fluttered in the wind, white at its edges. How long had he been unconscious? The sun was high in the sky.

Blueberry said gently, "Help is coming. Stay alive, Vegard. Breathe."

Sif shook his arm and said, "Come on, take another breath. A big one this time."

Vegard glanced at Sif.  He swallowed and took in another unsteady breath. He looked back up but Blueberry wasn't standing above them anymore. Something else was. It was shaped like a person, but it didn't have Blueberry's golden hair.  It didn't have any hair at all. It loomed dark over Sif, smiling wide with unnaturally jagged teeth. Shark-like teeth, sparkling in the sunlight. The sun was so bright. What time was it? Maybe mid-morning? Sif didn't know the thing was there. He tried to warn her, but only managed a croak.

She patted him again and said softly, "Don't try to speak. Just breathe."

The creature raised its fist and slammed it down. Sif crumpled soundlessly onto her side, away from him. The thing crouched over him and a long tongue slid along the side of his face, assaulting him with rancid breath. He wanted to scream. He couldn't.

Panicking won't help. Help is coming. Just breathe.


	23. Don Giovanni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A three page review of the last 22 chapters, with most of the important bits you need to get the remainder of the story. In this episode, Vegard ends up in the clutches of a very nasty monster. Also: Mozart, yay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been about 150 pages since this story started, and a long time since the last update. So I owe you a review, in the style of episodic television, and then a nice long chapter. Please enjoy.

**Vegard's voice says, "Previously on Ylvis Saves the World..."**

Vegard's nightmare:  
_Vegard opens a rusting door and finds Bård spread out on a table at a production office meeting. Bård waves a mannequin arm in the air, complaining, "My arm fell off. Help me put it back on!"_  
_Everyone looks at Vegard with disapproval._  
_Vegard says, "I can't fix this!"_  
_Bård says, "I can never count on you."_  
_Blood fills the room, drowning everyone._  
_The demon Bob hisses, "You can't save him. You can't save anyone. You can't even save yourself."_  
Vegard wakes up and immediately receives a "Are you okay?" text from Bård, who also just had a nightmare.

At Sif's farmhouse:  
Sif runs out of a big white farmhouse and greets Vegard and his family saying, _"Storebror!"_  
Vegard hails her, _"Lillesøster!"_  
She says, "I'm so glad you decided to stay with us."

In Sif's great room: Vegard peers at an ornate box. "You made this, Bård?"  
Bård shrugs, "I've been practicing wood burning."  
Bård's daughter Nora says, "If it weren't for Auntie Sif, I wouldn't have been born."  
Sif says, "We're glad you are here, Nora. Jonas is especially glad you are here."  
Sif's son Jonas turns bright red.

_In soft focus (in a dream), teen Vegard can't save his little brothers from being grabbed by Bob in a sewer. He wakes and sits bolt upright in bed._  
_Helene asks, "Nightmares again?" and then transforms into a monster._  
Vegard wakes up again, now in focus.  
Helene asks, "Nightmare?"  
_"Ja."_

_In soft focus, Bård accidentally stabs Sif and then bumps into his brother's body, hanging from a cross, his neck slashed and his chest run through by one of Bård's swords. Bob forces him to stab his wife and Bård wakes up with a scream._  
In focus, Maria asks, "Nightmares again?"  
_"Ja."_

Sif bounces her newborn baby and says, "I've had nightmares too, about my mother. I know why. It's Elder Bill. He has a hearing in Illinois in a few weeks and they might release him."  
Bård says, "I'm going to go to America. I have to be there if they release Elder Bill."

At the Illinois Courthouse:  
Ylvis and Calle settle into spectator seats. Vegard looks uneasily at the other spectators, who all sit rigidly and look suspiciously like the cultists.  
Billy shoots himself in the courtroom. A bullet ricochets off of the shield made by Vegard's Mothra mark.  
As spectators pass by, Vegard says, "That was Jeremy."  
Bård nods. "Cultist. We're getting out of here now."  
A policewoman hands Ylvis a note that says only, "This matter is closed."

In a rented SUV:  
Bård, terrified, says from the back seat, "That was an execution. They just executed Elder Bill. Maybe tried to get us too."  
Calle says, "And there's some sort of conspiracy in the government here?"  
Vegard says, "Calle, some things happened in Illinois we never told anyone."  
Bård says miserably, "Tokyo wasn't the first time Vegard's been tortured because of me."  
Vegard stares at Bård in the rearview mirror.  
Calle screams, " _Truck!"_  
Their SUV barely misses a head on collision with a truck.  
Robert Graves, the fat but friendly trucker says, "I'll say a prayer for you tonight."

In a hotel room:  
Bård says, "Do you think hell exists? I murdered a lot of innocent people in Tokyo."  
Vegard says, _Fy faen,_ Bård. Go to sleep."

_Bård, in soft focus, is thrown against a wall by the big Greek Hallas in the Canadian missle silo (in a scene not revealed in the original YStW story). Hallas bends him over a desk and transforms into Elder Bill. Bård begs, "It wasn't us, we didn't do it."_  
_Elder Bill morphs into Bob and pushes Bård's face into a puddle of blood, saying, "You did this. You killed them. Drink it. You want it."_  
Bård wakes up in terror and Vegard hugs him, saying, "It's okay to cry."

In an Italian restaurant:  
Bård says, "We're worried for our families."  
Sam the FBI agent says, "The Church of Everlasting Worship has been behaving itself these last few years. But you fucked up their plans three times now, in Illinois, in Canada and in Tokyo."  
"Canada?"  
"Remember the note written in Satanic script?"  
"The Church was trying to blow up Wyoming?"

Sam hands Vegard a card and says, "If you want to stay on the good side of the magic community, talk to this guy."  
Vegard looks at the card and says, "Harry Dresden. His occupation is... Wizard?"

On a sunny Chicago street:  
A sewer monster slams into a Starbuck's on a suddenly magicked up ice slick.  
We see Bård in bullet time, reaching out to a circular blade shooting out from the monster; it explodes in a fiery puff.  
Vegard's shield is hit in rapid succession by the blades, and we see the shield gets less opaque with each blow.  
Bård is saved from beheading by a big grey tomcat that knocks him down. Another blade ricochets and impales Bård, effectively slicing through his heart and cutting off his arm.  
The sewer monster explodes, burying Ylvis in bricks.  
_B: I'm dying._  
_V: Hold onto me. Stay with me._

In the hospital:

Vegard wakes up, confused, and Bård is grinning at him.  
Bård holds his hand.  
_B: How did you reattach my arm?_  
_V: Don't you know? I thought you could read my mind._  
_B: I can't. How long have you been able to heal any injury?_  
_V: Since Tokyo. And fresh injuries are easier to fix. I can't do anything with my eczema._

Harry Dresden enters and says, "I'm Harry Dresden. I hear you are looking for me."  
Vegard says drunkenly, "I would like please to wash my hair and wear pants." His patient gown collar falls open and exposes Mothra's mark.  
Dresden points to it and says, "That's a ward."  
Bård explains, "Blue Mothra put those on us. She is an Earth Spirit."  
Dresden says, "Earth Spirits are insanely powerful."

Dresden studies Ylvis with his Wizard's Sight: They both appear in shining armor. Vegard has an enormous shield. He is leaking magic everywhere. Bård has two short swords and has a terrible psychic scar down his face and the side of his body.

Vegard holds his own head, complaining, "All this screaming is making my head hurt. I can hear that man with the heart attack."  
Dresden and Bård look at each other. They don't hear screaming.

Harry says, "The Grey Wardens are wizard police. I'm surprised they haven't already picked you up and executed you. Using magic to kill is a death sentence."  
Harry's half-brother Thomas, the love vampire, shows up in his sexy glory and says, "I'll take responsibility for Vegard, Doctor."  
Vegard's doctor's mouth falls open and she agrees, clearly mesmerized.  
Vegard nods toward Thomas and asks around a mouthful of candy, "Will he drink our blood?"  
Dresden says, "He doesn't drink blood. Mostly he drinks beer."

In another hospital room:  
Vegard and Bård stand over the bodyguard with the broken leg.  
_V: I'm sensing all the people around me._  
They see the people surrounding them as translucent glowing outlines.  
_B: What is that? Over there?_  
They see a small glowing ball near the ground.  
_V: That's just a mouse in the wall._  
_B: Does that mean mice have souls?_  
_V: Don't be stupid. Okay, that's it. The broken leg is fixed._  
_B: You're amazing!_

In McAnally's Pub:  
Bård gestures at confused and swaying Vegard, who is stuffing his face with steak sandwiches, and asks, "Can you explain why he's like this?"  
Harry says, "I bet his shield normally shields him from psychic noise. He's tired and hungry. He used up a lot of energy saving and healing you."  
Vegard nods drunkenly, "It was very many like that."  
Calle shows his purple pendant to Harry.  
Harry says, "That's a ward as well."

Harry says, "I don't know any Big Bads called Bob."  
Calle says, "Mio called him Tiamat. The name Bob was Bård's idea."  
Harry shakes his head. "Hell's bells, Tiamat? I heard Tiamat has been lying low as queen of lizardy fishy snakey people. Golden skin, Marilyn Monroe sex appeal, smell like dead fish?"  
Bård has a flashback to the evil spirit of the fire he saw in Illinois. He says, "I'm going for a walk."

Midnight on a street in Chicago:  
Walking with Romeo, the dreadlocked FBI agent, Bård calls Sif and asks, "How did you really kill the wolves during the titan attacks?"  
Sif says, "I chanted a prayer to Satan. The wolves dropped in their tracks. It was black magic, what I've spent my life trying to fight."

Bård and Romeo stand in front of the Underwater Panther Memorial.  
Bård asks, "Do you think that sinners are doomed to eternal Hell?"  
Romeo pulls out a cross and says, "Not exactly. But I have faith."  
Bård says. "You believe in God? Even with monsters killing children?"  
Romeo says, "Aren't the trials of life when you need faith the most?"

In the hotel room, in the dark:  
Vegard holds a pillow over his head. "Bård, there's so much noise."  
Bård says, "Come here, I'll help you." He holds Vegard's hand.  
_V: That's so much better._  
_B: Sleep. Now._  
_V: Just don't let go. You always let go first._  
Bård frowns.  
Vegard sleepily says out loud, "I'm proud of you, Bård. You're a good boy."

Outside, back on Sif's farm:  
Jonas plays with his pet squirrel Fregne. His sister Honey and Bård's kid Nora are playing nearby in the grass. The sky around them turns black. Fake, beaten-up-and-not-quite-right Vegard appears in military uniform and says, "I'm going to take you somewhere safe. The wolves are attacking again."  
They are led into a magic portal by two soldiers, and fake Vegard disappears.  
Jonas takes the girls' hands, "No matter what, we stay together."

In a car heading to meet Dresden:  
Bård is speaking to Sif on the phone.  
Sif says, "The things that took Jonas and Honey and Nora were Serpents. Satan's messengers. I'm going to the Church. They have a group of the faithful in Sweden."  
Bård says urgently, "No, you can't do that."  
"I won't let my babies suffer without me."  
"Sif? _SIF?!_ " Bård switches off his phone and says, "Stop the car!"  
Bård jumps out of the car, bellows, _"Faen!"_ and punches a streetlight, bending the metal pole.

At the Carpenters' house:  
Uriel, the guardian angel disguised as a young Norwegian, says to Bård, "Control your beast. Do not lose your temper here."  
Bård frowns but nods and walks past him.  
Behind him, Romeo and Uriel greet as longtime friends.

Molly meets them at the front door saying, "I recognize you from your book. I'm Molly Carpenter. We're tracking where they took the children."  
As Harry leans over the dining room table, Molly says, "Harry is tracking my sister Maggie. She's eleven. Her dog came home without her. He'd been shot."  
Mouse the giant dog whines from the kitchen.

Harry looks at Bård and says, "How did you know Maggie is my daughter?"  
Bård says, "Your dog told me."  
Vegard appears near the map table, eating a sandwich. He says, "I healed the dog."  
Calle grunts, “You’re a man of unusual talents, Vegard.”  
Vegard says, “Bård can make things explode."  
Calle rolls his eyes and says, "Typical."

Molly says, "All the children taken were about eleven years old."  
Thomas the sexy vampire says, "Preadolescents are particularly useful in certain black magic rituals. Virgin sacrifices."  
Harry dangles a charm over a map. "Come on. No need to imagine the worst. Luckily, finding lost people is my particular specialty. Maggie dropped off the World near the Ba'hai temple. Nora popped up in Giza. They're probably jumping between gateways."  
Bård asks, "Gateways?"  
Harry says, "Magic history: When people build structures like temples or pyramids they weaken the barrier between our world and the Nevernever. The Nevernever is a bit like the underworld. It's a dimension next to our own, where all the magic happens. We'll follow the girls there through the Ways."  
Romeo folds his arm and clears his throat. Calle is comically startled, saying, "I forgot you were there."  
As Vegard looks at a brochure featuring Christopher Walken, Romeo says, "The FBI has four other cases. All children of magic users, kidnapped in the last 24 hours."  
Dresden asks Romeo, "You're the FBI's internal practitioner? I didn't detect magic on you at all!"  
Romeo says, "Being sneaky is my specialty."

In the Nevernever courtyard:  
Ylvis and company, all armed and wearing tactical gear, step through a portal from the Ba'hai temple and into a dark outdoor courtyard.  
Vegard falls to the ground, deafened by voices and sounds. His shield fires and Bård touches him and the sound goes away.  
_V: I'm okay._  
_B: Just okay? I feel like I could take on Satan himself!_  
_V: You might be right. I can't feel my spells getting weaker._

The group is approached by Luccio and Jones and a big grey cat.  
Warden Luccio, the curly-haired woman says, "Warden Dresden, Chicago, this is Warden Jones, Cinncinati."  
Warden Jones, dressed in American army gear and a cape, nods at Dresden.  
Dresden looks at the big grey cat grimalkin with them and asks, "How did you get a malk to help you?"  
Luccio says, "The malk isn't with me. He's a scout."

On a clearing in the Nevernever:  
A group of men appear in the Nevernever with three unconscious captive children and a group of guards. The guards transform into monsters.  
Ylvis belts out a tritone and produces a electric blue shield that destroys a cloud of evil insects.  
Thomas leaps around in bullet time, beheading monsters in quick succession.  
Dresden shoots fireballs out of his staff.  
Molly disappears into invisibility.  
Jones mostly fights with a sword.  
Romeo fires magic pressure waves.  
Mouse the giant dog guards the children.  
Ylvis swings around holding hands, vastly slowed down compared to the others, blowing up monsters, giggling and shouting out the names of the seven dwarves, punctuating each with an explosion.

In the bushes, Wadjet the lisping grimalkin cat chitters at the battle but doesn't move to help.  
Calle uses a rifle to shoot at enemies while Wadjet mocks him, saying, "Perhaps _th_ you might be of more value as _th_ fodder?"  
"You're rude even for a cat."  
"I am not a cat, you dullard!"

Dresden says grimly, "They were taking those kids to the _Siyah Tapinak_. The Black Temple."  
Mouse the dog woofs.  
Bård points at Mouse and says, "He smells Nora. Leading off this way."  
Dresden says, "I have to follow Maggie that way. We have to split up."  
Wadjet the malk offers, "I can _th_ mell the girl and the others _th_ that were with her."

On the cobblestone path:  
Wadjet rubs his face against Vegard's legs and then disappears into the tall grasses beside the path.  
Jones says, "Wadjet says Nora got on a transport here. We should stay on this road."

Ranger approaches on the path with four bodyguards and a prisoner.  He is wearing Sif's necklace.  
Bård, thrown to the ground, points at Ranger and says to Warden Jones, "That man is a rapist and a murderer!"  
Molly drops her invisibility veil as she transforms her appearance from sweatpants into a frosty glamour.  
Ranger asks, "And who the fuck are you?"  
Calle replies in a English accent, "I am the Guardian."  
Molly says, "...and I am Lady Winter. You are travelling on my land."  
Ranger says, "Nice try. Satan rules everywhere in Hell."

Vegard pulls the hood off of Ranger's captive to reveal Sif's battered face.  
Vegard says, "We just spoke to you four hours ago."  
Sif says, "Four days for me."  
Molly comments, "Time moves strangely in the Nevernever."

Sif's injuries disappear as Vegard heals her with Bård's help.  
Bård inspects Sif and turns to Vegard in awe.  
_B: That was amazing. You're amazing._  
_V: Drit i det._  
_B: Somehow you took away my anger too._

A tentacle comes out of the grass, snatches Ranger's minions off of the pathway one by one and then pulls Vegard away.  
Sif immediately runs after him.  
Bård screams _"Faen!"_ and vaporizes a huge patch of ground.  
Jones says, "We gotta go. Move!"  
Bård, bleeding and confused, slurs, "No, we can't leave him!"  
Jones hisses, "He's already dead." He chokes Bård out.

_Bård has one of Vegard's dreams, from their childhood, when Vegard took the blame for Bård's naughty behavior._  
Bård awakens on the ground. He says, "I think I hear Mozart."  
Calle pulls Bård to his feet as Ranger addresses Bård with awe, "You really _are_ Called."  
Bård says, "Fuck off and die."

Vegard's voice calls out, "Bård? Where are you?"  
Bård whirls, saying, "I heard Vegard's voice!"  
Molly explains, "When a person is asleep or dying they can communicate more easily… it's especially easy in the Nevernever. Maybe you heard his last thoughts."  
Bård says, "Asleep? We've been having nightmares together for the last year."  
Molly says, "Maybe someone else is communicating with you both while you sleep."

Bård asks Jones, "Why didn't Vegard's shield activate when that monster grabbed him?"  
"Maybe it wasn't trying to kill him."  
Calle says, "So he's alive? We've got to go back!"  
Jones points, "We go forward. I can see the Black Temple from here."  
Bård says, "We get Nora first. Then Vegard."

Inside the Black Temple:  
The kidnapped children are led to an old chapel-turned-children's-shelter, filled with sleeping children.  
Honey yawns loudly.  
Jonas whispers to Nora, "Don't drink that water."  
Nora replies, "Drugged?"  
"Think so. Act sleepy."  
A beautiful woman, dressed as a nurse, asks, "Ylvisssåker? Are you related to thossse Mothra brothersss? You three need white wrissstbandsss."  
As she puts white bands around Jonas's wrist, she sniffs him and detects the squirrel. "No petsss!"  
Jonas reluctantly hands over his pet squirrel.  
Nora takes Jonas's hand.

In the tall grasses:  
Sif chases after Vegard, who is being slammed around like a ragdoll, but is protected by his shield.  
Sif concentrates and vaporizes the monster that grabbed him in the same way Bård vaporized the field near the path.  
Hidden in the tall grasses, Vegard says, "I can't move my fingers."  
Sif takes his numbed hand and says, "There's broken skin here."  
"That's just eczema."  
"The rash absorbed the venom. It's a paralyzing venom. I'll have to breathe for you."

Sif bends down and gives Vegard rescue breaths.  
_Vegard has one of Bård's dreams, from when they were Bob's captives and Bård was skewered to a wall through his right shoulder._  
_Vegard has a vision of himself and Sif in Oslo from the past, clearly from her memories._  
Vegard starts coughing and Sif laughs, "Every time you passed out you dreamed of flying in different planes. Big breath now!"  
Blueberry (Blue Mothra) appears in a vision to Vegard and murmurs, "Help is coming. Stay alive, Vegard. Breathe."  
Vegard attempts to speak but can't manage it. A toothy creature knocks Sif out.

_Fade to black as Bob the Demon hisses, as in Vegard's nightmare, "You can't save him. You can't save anyone. You can't even save yourself..."_

**Vegard's voice returns to say, "And now, on Ylvis Saves the World..."**

 

Vegard jerked awake. Again. _Faen_ , had he passed out? Again? Stupid. Stupid! He blinked his eyes. They felt dry. Didn't matter. He couldn't see. Blindfolded. Okay.

He lay on his right side, his arms trapped behind him. He coughed and sucked in a breath, which only triggered more coughing.

He had to concentrate on breathing. Every time he stopped thinking about breathing he passed out. Breathe.

Where was he? He was lying on damp planks, the wet surface chilling his bare skin. Hadn't he been wearing a shirt? He still had his black jeans, although where they touched the wood they were cold and wet as well. So much water. Maybe this was a boat? Or a dock? The air was fresh enough. It smelled as though it had recently rained. His shoulders ached and his wrists were bound with some sort of rope. That was pointless, rope was usually so easy to get out of. He felt the knot with his clumsy, numb fingers. It was just a square knot. If only his fingers would move properly he could be out of his bonds in less than twenty seconds. If his hands would just work. Maybe the rope wasn't so pointless.

The wood beneath him bounced.  Okay.  He was moving. He was on some sort of wagon. He vaguely remembered being carried and dumped here. He could hear the grinding of gravel beneath tires. Well then, a wagon with tires. He cursed and struggled to sit up. Also pointless. He was still mostly paralyzed. He managed only to raise his head a little. That was something. Stay positive.

He called out in Norwegian, "What's happening?" His voice was gravelly and unnaturally high pitched. He coughed several times and tried again, this time asking in English, "Hello?" As reward he got a cuff to the head. Well, someone _tried_ to hit him. His shield fired and spread the blow so that he only felt a gentle tap, and he was knocked back only a little. He shouldn't have felt it at all. Maybe his shield was running out of charge. A male voice grunted something angry that Vegard couldn't quite hear. But he understood the message and rested his head back down on the wood.

Sif was lying limp, half on top of him, half to his side. Vegard concentrated a bit and stretched his mind to touch hers. She wasn't conscious. But he could feel her head throbbing from the blow she'd been given by the grinning creature back in the grass. He cursed himself for not checking on her sooner. He concentrated on the wound. Just a cut easily repaired. But she was slowly bleeding in her brain from two small broken vessels. Also easily fixed. He'd stopped the bleeding but wasn't sure how to relieve the pressure from the blood that had already escaped into her brain. He hadn't gotten that far in the medical books he'd been reading.

. . .

He jerked back awake. Breathe, Stupid! His mouth was dry. He could feel sun on the side of his face. He smelled wet earth. Were they still in the forest?

He took a long deep breath and managed not to cough. That was an improvement. He shifted slightly but realized his ankles were bound as well. That was a waste of rope; he hadn't shaken off the paralysis. He could barely move. But maybe their captors didn't realize that.

It wasn't long before the sound of tires on gravel turned into the sound of tires on smooth paving stones or pavement. And then they stopped.

A tenor voice said something in a gutteral language Vegard didn't recognize. A bass voice responded something that sounded like _"Welp blihee veien manasa."_ No clue there. Hopefully whatever it was didn't translate to something horrible, like: "Let's kill them", or "Let's eat them", or "Let's make them watch Disney on Ice."

Vegard smiled. If Bård were here he'd be cracking jokes to keep him focused. Where were Bård and the others, anyway? Would they be able to track him without the malk's help?

The wagon started moving again and Vegard drew in another long, slow breath. No coughing. Maybe everything would be okay. Blueberry'd said help was coming. He trusted her. Unless she was a hallucination. Then he'd be in trouble.

His breathing was almost back to normal when the wagon stopped and he felt Sif being abruptly lifted and pulled away. Vegard called out, "What are you doing? Don't hurt her!" and struggled to sit up. He did a little better this time. He almost achieved what might be loosely defined as a "crunch". But the wagon started forward again with a jerk and he was thrown back onto his side. He called Sif's name again out loud (and in his head) but she was still frustratingly unconscious.

He held onto Sif for as long as he could, and desperately tried to maintain a bond as the distance stretched between them. He startled at a sudden pain in her neck and then she was gone.

Vegard ground his teeth and called out again, "What have you done to her?"

The wagon stopped abruptly, rolling Vegard forward. His shield prevented him from getting hurt, but hewas afraid he'd roll right off the cart and get run over.

A low strangled scream sounded behind him, and then men's voices, shouting. The wagon jerked forward again, now moving much faster. Something or someone landed next to him on the wagon floor and clamped onto his ankles. It dragged his legs a half-meter into the air only to drop him again. He bounced around the wagon's floor as they moved faster and faster along the ground, passing by the sounds of fighting, mixed with grunts and inhuman growls. _What the fuck_ was going on?!

He tried bracing himself against a wall of the wagon and rubbed his blindfolded face on the wooden boards, desperate to see what was happening. He couldn't manage it; the blindfold was stuck to his face with some sort of tape. _Sah-tan_. The wagon made a sudden acute turn, pulling the cart up on two wheels and tossing Vegard against the opposite wall. He could smell smoke. Wood smoke, he thought. Was some structure burning? He suddenly remembered the fire burning the poor mangled woman Raven in Illinois. _Herregud_ , were his captors organizing for a sacrifice? Was he next?

The wagon came to another abrupt halt, throwing him forward again. He was sure every part of his body would be bruised and raw if it weren't for his shield. He mentally thanked Blueberry for the ward.

Voices again, men's voices, still incomprehensible. Then rough hands picked him up by the armpits. Someone else grabbed his ankles.

He didn't have the strength to struggle much yet, but he protested, "Let me go!"

Someone stuffed something into his mouth. Okay. They weren't going to let him go. Fine.

The footsteps of the men carrying him (he assumed it was men) changed. The sound of shuffling boots on wet pavement changed to boots on wood, and then tile.

They walked through several echoing halls and then down some stairs. He was in agony; every step down jolted his body weight on the ropes around his wrists. But his captors weren't impressed by his muffled complaints.

Several flights brought them to a stone floor. The air was damp and musty. It reminded him weirdly of the rancid smell of the neglected office refrigerator he'd cleaned out a few months ago. Despair washed over him. That refrigerator felt years away. It was worlds away. He was going to die here. These men were taking him to die.

They finally stopped, but instead of just dropping him on the floor (or murdering him) they sat him down in a heavy wooden chair. It was impossible for him to sit upright on his own, so someone wrapped a strap around his chest. The circulation returned to his hands, prompting him to howl in pain and frustration through the gag.

He was working his fingers and the pain subsided.  He jumped when a woman's voice said softly behind him, in heavily accented English, "Ah... Now I see why the malk were so interested in you." She bent close and whispered, "Beloved." She said the word as three clipped syllables: "beh-love-edt."  She continued in the same accent, "The malkin tried to rescue you.  Two of my attendants were too injured to save.  That's a shame, don't you think?"

Okay.  That explained the commotion on the road here.  Vegard strained to listen. He couldn't identify her accent. Maybe Polish? She sounded a bit like Dracula. Romanian?

She said, a bit farther away, "Let's hear some music. I would like a good tune to go with dinner."

Vegard stiffened. Was he the dinner?  Music started. Opera. He wasn't an opera expert, but he knew this was Mozart. _The Magic Flute_. It wasn't a good recording; it was full of hiss and crackles. Maybe it was on vinyl.

The music played long enough for him to recover enough strength to hold up more of his own body weight. With effort he managed to spit the cloth out of his mouth but he didn't try to talk. And no one came near him.

The music ended and he was left in silence. He called out a few times but there was no answer. Was he alone? How much time had passed? Minutes? Hours? He had to urinate.

A needle (or possibly a biting insect?) stung his bare upper arm. A minute later he was fighting to stay awake. It had definitely been a needle. A sedative. Helvete.

As he was sucked down into darkness he called out with his mind, _Bård? Where are you?_

 

* * * * *

 

"Hey, Jonas, wake up."

Jonas opened his eyes and found Nora's face centimeters from his own. He wondered for a moment if he was still asleep. She looked so pretty.

Nora frowned and shook him again.

He held up a hand and said, "I'm awake."

"Something's happening."

They'd spent the night curled up on a single bunk, Honey between the two older kids. Honey had finished her drugged bottle of water and they wanted to protect her. Besides, Jonas was confident he wouldn't get a moment of sleep if he slept next to Nora.

He shifted his gaze toward his little sister; she was still out cold. He asked, "What time is it?"

Nora looked at her pink silicone watch. "Seven."

Jonas pushed himself up on his elbow. Several women were filing in and out of the large room. They all wore floor-length sleeveless white shifts, and all had their hair pulled back into a single braid. Some were placing neatly folded plain white clothing or towels at the feet of the occupied beds. Others were placing trays of food on the long tables near the center of the room. The smell of warm bread made Jonas's mouth water.

Nora whispered, "Do you think the food is drugged too?"

Jonas shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe I should test it before you eat it."

She elbowed him. "I can test it. You're the one we need to stay awake."

"What do you mean?"

"Honey told me you can do magic. Like my father."

Jonas turned to stare at her, aghast. He whispered, "That's a secret."

Nora lifted her chin defiantly. " _I'll_ test the food."

"I can't protect you girls if you're both asleep."

Something caught Nora's eye behind Jonas. She said, "Is that Auntie Sif?"

Jonas turned to look, and then rolled off of the bed. His mother was calmly walking out of the room. Hadn't she seen them?

Half-stumbling he called out, "Mamma!"

His mother moved through the double doors and Jonas ran to catch up. One of the two soldiers guarding the door grabbed his arm and gruffly asked in English, "Where are you going?"

Jonas pointed. "That's my mom. She doesn't know I'm here!"

The guards exchanged a glance. "You need to stay in here."

"But that's my mother!"

The second guard said, "I'll check," and disappeared through the doors.

The first one pushed Jonas gently back, saying, "Go eat breakfast and get dressed. We'll let you know what happened."

"But..."

The soldier said firmly, "Go have breakfast. Drink plenty of water. You look dehydrated."

Jonas hesitated, and then nodded and walked dejectedly back to Nora and Honey. That woman had definitely been his mother. And there was something very definitely wrong with her.

 

* * * * *

 

"Drink."

Vegard roused and groaned. He'd passed out sitting up with his head lolling at an unnatural angle. His neck muscles screamed at him. He gingerly brought his head up and blinked.

The blindfold was gone. All his clothes were gone as well. Okay.  What did baddies have against clothing?  

He shifted uncomfortably.  He was sitting in some new heavy wooden armchair, his wrists strapped to the armrests. He pulled at them angrily.

"You must drink."

Vegard looked up. "Sif!"

Sif stood before him, wearing a pristine white cotton dress with a deeply scooped neck. Her long blond hair was smoothed back from her face and a single long braid draped over her right shoulder. She held a cup in both hands and brought it to his lips.

He bent forward and took a long draught of the cool water.

When he pulled back he studied Sif. " _Takk_. Are you okay?"

She hesitated a moment, and then nodded.

Vegard glanced around. They were in a large room decorated in 18th Century European style. Immaculate white wainscoting ran around the room under rich red walls, all covered with dark landscapes and portraits in heavy gold frames. Gold silk draperies covered any potential windows, and the mahogany parquet floor gleamed under the ornate divans and chairs scattered throughout the room. The light wasn't bright. There were candelabras and sconces loaded with lit candles. Creepy.

A tall voluptuous woman, her short blond hair slicked back over her head, glided toward them. She wore a gold sequined strapless gown and a heavy gold choker. She gently pushed Sif aside. When she addressed him, Vegard realized it was the Romanian he'd heard before.

She said, "Be-lov-ed. You are awake." She held a golden, jagged dagger in one hand and brought the tip to his left eye.

Vegard swallowed hard and squeezed his left eye shut. "Yes, I'm awake."

"Look at me." She leaned forward and smiled, showing her teeth. She had two long, curved upper fangs like a snake. Vegard glanced down and realized she wasn't wearing sequins. She was covered in golden scales. No shoes, just a body that followed her like the train of a gown. _Jesus Christ._ This was bad.

She tapped the dagger's tip on the end of his nose, triggering his shield with each tap. She raised a brow, clearly delighted.

Vegard asked, "Who are you?"

"I am Lady Meret. Would you like me to taste your blood?"

"No thank you?"

"I thought it would be polite to ask. You don't really have a choice."

Meret placed the dagger in Sif's hand and then brought the tip against the ward on Vegard's right shoulder. She instructed Sif, "Press the dagger in this spot firmly, girl. It will take some time to wear down the ward."

Vegard leaned away from the dagger and frowned at Sif. "Sif? What's the matter with you?"

Sif didn't answer but stabbed his shoulder, triggering his shield. He barely felt the pressure, but as his shield continued to flash he saw the tattoo. The image ran down the right side of Sif's neck, a black snake curled into a figure eight, surrounded by cuneiform symbols. The mark was so fresh the skin under it was still red and swollen.

"Sif? Stop stabbing me."

Sif didn't hear him. She continued to dully follow his movements with the dagger, poking him and triggering his shield.

Vegard scowled at Meret. "What did you do to her?!"

"She is marked. She is honored to serve."

Across the room a blank-faced middle-aged woman, attired like Sif in a white sleeveless shift and single braid, bent to crank an old-fashioned gramophone. She carefully dropped the stylus onto the spinning album on the turntable. The music, louder than Vegard would have expected, boomed out and a deep bass voice roared: " _Don Giovanni!"_

If Vegard hadn't been utterly terrified, he would have laughed. Wasn't the situation macabre enough? But evidently the snake monster woman liked Mozart.  That was weird.  

Weirder still, the demon joined in the song, her clear alto mingling with the bass voice on the album.

Vegard knew the piece, _"Don Giovanni, a cenar teco m'invitasti"_ very well. After he and Bård had seen the movie "Amadeus", seven-year-old Bård had been obsessed with the scene in which it was featured. His father had gotten a cassette of the opera and Bård had nagged Vegard into learning the scene well enough to sing the whole thing in Italian. His parents had found their preadolescent performance hilarious. And he knew the translation; it had come with the cassette.

Meret sang, in Italian, _"You invited me to dinner and I've come!"_ She twisted her long fingers into Vegard's hair and pulled his head back. She came close, still singing, her breath warming the skin of his face and throat. She motioned Sif to press the blade harder against Vegard's mark.

She sang, _"He who dines on the food of heaven has no need for the food of mortals."_

Vegard couldn't pull away from her; she was incredibly strong. His already strained neck muscles shrieked in protest to the pressure. Not that it would matter much longer.

He tried to meet Sif's eyes, difficult in the position the demon was holding him. She was pressing the point of the dagger against him with all of her weight. His shield was flashing and sparking around the point. Vegard hoped Sif was so enthralled that she didn't know what was happening; she would never forgive herself if she did.

Sif had always liked his voice, so he sang with the music in Italian: _"Serious concerns have caused me to come here."_ He used the sound to shove Meret away.

The demon loosened her grip on him for a moment with surprise. She smiled broadly and said, "It's true. Sound magic!" She rejoined the music and sang, _"Speak! Speak! I'm listening."_

Her smile infuriated him. Hatred and pain and fear gave him sudden strength and he yanked on his trapped arms again, his entire body bucking against her. He concentrated on using his shield to push her away and half-snarled with the music, _"I will speak. Listen! My time is short!"_

The demon slid back on the floor but in a moment she'd darted forward again, licking her lips. She ran her hand down his naked chest, the nails producing silvered trails of reflexive shield magic. _"Speak, speak. I am listening."_

Sif let out a grunt of protest and Vegard felt a spark of hope. Maybe she was responding to his voice. He swallowed hard and boomed out, _"No one will say of me that I have ever been afraid."_

He hurled snake backward this time, but she quickly regained her balance and coiled, growling with raw pleasure. She sprang forward again, and cut off his words with her mouth. His shield mercifully kept her fangs from tearing his lips, but her breath was foul, like rotting fish and sewage. 

Vegard gagged.  And he could feel the pressure of Sif's dagger against his shoulder. His shield was failing. Meret ran her claws down his chest again, and this time he felt them as dull scratches.

Vegard wrenched away from her mouth and sang, _"My heart is strong, I'm not afraid."_ His voice threw her to the side this time, toward a particularly pointy wall sconce. But the blow wasn't as strong as the previous one, and he felt dizzy. How could he be running out of magic so quickly?

Meret coiled and uncoiled in the air, dodging the candelabra and sliding on the parquet. Breathing hard with excitement, she slithered back to him, singing, " _Repent! Change your ways!  This is your final chance!"_

Vegard opened his mouth to reply but startled as Sif cried out, "No!"

The dagger pierced his shoulder, only a few millimeters deep. Sif whimpered in horror, unable to prevent the blade from moving forward.

Vegard screamed and Meret held his head to the side. She began licking and sucking at his neck, grunting and gasping like a hungry dog.

And then, suddenly and horribly, the dagger's blade slid smoothly through his shoulder and, with a sickening thump, nailed him to the wooden back of the chair. Meret shoved Sif roughly to the floor and grinned wildly at Vegard as he howled in agony, her ratcheted fangs extending forward like the forelegs of a praying mantis. She took hold of his throat with one hand and ran her sharpened claws hard down his chest, drawing out another cry as the sharpened tips cut parallel, bleeding lines of flesh from his ribs. She gleefully sang out, _"Your time is up!"_

As he writhed in pain she leaned close and sang, _"Who lacerates my soul? Who torments my body? What torment! What agony! What Hell! What terror!"_

Vegard tried to gasp a response but she squeezed his throat, cutting him off.

She cackled, _"No horror is too dreadful for you! Come! There is worse in store!"_

She released his throat and, with gleaming eyes, she twisted the dagger in his wound, releasing blue and golden shafts of light from the ward forward over his chest and splinters of wood backward through the chair. As the knife destroyed Blueberry's protective ward, Vegard could hear Sif screaming in terror. And then he heard the screams of the old woman near the gramophone. And then a man's screams from somewhere above him, and then more screams beyond that, and more and more and more and soon his mind was flooded with the anguished cries of hundreds of people, all terrified, all possessed by demons and unable to escape.

Vegard barely noticed when Meret finally sank her fangs into his neck and began drawing out his life's blood. He tried to call out to Sif, to tell her he forgave her, to tell her this wasn't her fault, but he couldn't hear his own voice over the wailing of the damned.

As the gramophone's Don Giovanni cried out his last, terrified, _"Ahhhh!"_ the room, the fear, the screams and the pain all dissolved into black.

* * * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know the piece, I strongly recommend you do a YouTube search for the video: "S. Ramey & K. Moll "The Commendatore Scene" Don Giovanni". I'm not much of an opera enthusiast (there are never enough car chases for me), but this particular scene always gives me chills. And the music is beautiful.
> 
> Hope you liked this Chapter. The next chapter is about ready to go so I won't make you wait long.


	24. Vanilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang finally reaches the Black Temple. They figure out the situation is worse than they thought.

Calle, Bård, Jones, Molly and Ranger could all plainly see the spire of the Black Temple when they decided to go forward, but getting to the temple took longer than expected. The narrow cobblestone pathway steadily wound its way down into a valley through forested hills and the sun was starting to set when they found themselves at a fork in the road, within tantalizing view of the temple itself.  Jones put up his fist to halt the group and bent to pick up a small object.  He glanced around, frowning.

Calle whispered to Bård. "Another monster attack?"

"If so, I'm ready this time." Bård clenched his fists so tightly that Calle could hear the knuckles pop.

He didn't think anything could comfort his friend, so he said only, "We're almost there."

_"Ja."_

Bård looked exhausted and angry. Calle felt the same. And poor Bård, losing Vegard and that sister, all the while being scared for his daughter. Calle knew from long experience that an exhausted and angry Bård usually meant he'd repeatedly lose his temper until he either fell asleep or went off by himself to do who knows what. When they were working, Bård's temper usually meant a biting, too-close-to-home remark. But here in the Nevernever, if he lost his temper he might accidentally vaporize someone. Calle made it a point to stand behind Bård; better safe than sorry.

Jones beckoned them off of the road and toward a dense thicket of smooth birch trees and dark, leafy shrubs. Once in the shade Jones whistled softly. In a matter of seconds Harry appeared with Mouse and Luccio, stepping carefully through the underbrush toward them.

Calle leaned in to ask Jones, "How did you know they were here?"

Jones handed Calle the object in his hand. It was a Chicago parking ticket stub.

"Ah."

Bård knelt down to give Mouse an intense ear and neck scratching that seemed to relax both him and the dog.

Harry greeted Jones with a wave and then caught sight of Ranger. Calle was standing close enough hear Harry mutter to Jones, "Why the roster switch?"

"Lost Veygar and a girl. Found this guy."

"What do you mean you lost Vegard? ...and what girl?"

"The girl might have been a relation of his. Matawyrms got them."

Harry's expression hardened. He glanced at Bård with pity, and then at Ranger with suspicion. "Is the new guy vanilla?"

"Vanilla?"

"Yeah, the new guy. Is he like Calle here?"

Harry met eyes with Calle and shrugged apologetically.

Jones raised a brow. "Seriously?"

"What?"

"Are you seriously asking me if he's white?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, I mean is he normal? You know, not a wizard? No abilities - no offense Calle."

Calle peered at Harry, "So you're admitting you are the abnormal one?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sensing any magic but this area is throwing me off."

Jones's mouth twitched, "Yeah I think he's ... normal.  Like Calle here. Vanilla."

Harry sighed, "Maybe I should talk to Bård." 

"Yeah, maybe you should."

Harry knelt next to Bård and Mouse and murmured something Calle didn't catch.

But Bård cleared his throat and said loud enough for the whole group to hear, "I don't think they're dead."

Calle added, "We have to go back to look for them after we rescue the children."

Harry frowned and looked to Molly for an explanation. "I feel I'm missing something here."

Bård stood and added, "And Ranger here is an untrustworthy... rapist... Satan worshipping... murdering motherfucking psychopath."

"Good to know?"

Ranger protested, "I'm not _technically_ a rapist."

"Oooookay then."

"Because..."

"Save it for a lawyer." Harry looked Molly up and down, taking in her frosty Winter glamour. "You look good, uh..."

"Lady Winter."

"Ah. Would m'lady come over here and fill me and Captain Luccio in as to what's going on?"

"Of course."

Molly muttered something to Harry as they walked towards Luccio, and Harry turned his head saying, "Ranger. Do not ever annoy Lady Winter."

Ranger grunted. "Yeah, whatever."

Harry waved to Jones. "We're waiting for Thomas and Agent Reid to get back. They went to scout the temple. Can you keep watch for a few minutes?"

Warden Jones sighed and said rested his hand on the pummel of his sword, "I know how to keep watch. Who's Thomas again?"

"Thomas Raith. Friendly White Court vamp."

"Excuse me?"

Luccio touched Jones's arm. "He's a friend."

Jones shook his head and said, "Luccio warned me you have a strange taste in allies."

Harry grinned. "Yup!"

As Jones walked past Calle toward a good vantage point from which to keep watch, he muttered, "Vanilla," and raised his fist to Calle. Calle returned the fist bump and grinned. He liked Jones more with every passing hour.

Still smiling, Calle took a seat on a fallen log. It felt good to sit down.  Ranger leaned against a nearby tree with his arms folded, and along with Mouse they watched Bård pace back and forth. Bård was pacing with intensity, working his neck and arms and shoulders as if he were about to do one of his dance or gymnastics routines. Calle knew better than to talk to Bård when he was like this, even when none of his relatives were dead or kidnapped. God knew what Bård would do if Ranger said anything. Luckily Ranger kept his mouth shut.

After about ten minutes of watching his friend, Calle started to feel drowsy. Maybe he was finally starting to recover from the terror of their journey and the initial shock of Vegard's disappearance. Maybe he was just too scared to be scared. Was that something that happened to people? He wasn't sure. But the sky was turning orange and pink and there was a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead. And the rhythmic sound of Bård's boots crunching leaves and twigs as he moved back and forth, together with the steady, deep panting of the enormous dog began to take their toll. Calle leaned against Mouse's giant shoulder and began to drift off.

_"Faen!"_

"Bård?" Calle's eyes snapped open and a wall of the most intensely foul smell he'd ever experienced hit him hard enough to make his eyes water. He hadn't thought anything match the smell of the sewer demon that attacked them in Chicago. But no, he'd been wrong. Here it was. Worst smell ever. What a lovely, special day.

Beside him, Mouse let out a protesting whine.

Bård was already violently retching, interspersing the gagging spasms with more Norwegian profanity.

Calle fought the urge to do the same. He suggested, "Don't breathe through your nose."

Ranger, holding his own nose, grunted, "Yeah, _no shit,_ Sherlock. Jesus _fuck_ that stinks."

Jones reappeared and hooked a thumb toward the setting sun, "Wind changed. It's blowing west now." He pulled a set of binoculars out of one of his hip packs and moved past them to scan the darker part of the sky. Calle idly wondered if the sun always set in the west in parallel dimensions and smiled.  Vegard had been a bad influence on him.   He'd have to tell Vegard when they found him. Which they would definitely do.

Harry, Molly and Luccio, all looking green, rejoined them and Jones informed them, "There's a dump due east. Source of the smell. Might also be used as a grave. Bodies aren't covered." He handed the binoculars to Harry.

Harry took a look and grimaced. "Hell's bells, some of those look like human corpses."

Bård wiped his mouth. "Any children?"

Harry shook his head. "Thankfully, no."

Ranger squinted toward the hill of carcasses. "Can I look?"

Harry handed over the binoculars. "Hope you have a strong stomach."

Ranger squinted through them and said, "Well, fuck me runnin'. That's Kevin! I recognize his robe. He had that same patch on his sleeves."

Jones frowned. "Who was Kevin?"

"One of my attendants. Don't you remember him? He was the one with the beard."

"Nope."

"He was the last one to get snatched by the tentacle monsters?"

Harry perked up. "Tentacle monsters?"

Jones corrected, "Matawyrms."

"Oh, right. Scary."

Calle sighed. "The monsters took those four cavemen and then took Vegard.  Kevin must have been one of the cavemen."

Harry looked at Molly hopefully. "You didn't mention cavemen?"

Jones sighed in annoyance. "Not cavemen. Brute demons."

"Ah." Harry rubbed his jaw. "Matawyrms don't really have tentacles like an octopus. They have bones in their limbs. More like snakes than tentacles."

Ranger shrugged. "Whatever it was, it ate Kevin."

Molly said softly, "It grabbed Vegard with a thing that looked like a long tentacle with a sort of lizardy hand with dripping claws."

Jones said, "Not claws. Fangs."

Harry nodded and then did a violent double take at Ranger. _"Wait a second!"_

Ranger put down the binoculars hastily and drew back. "What?"

Harry held up a hand. "Hold on. You had a brute demon bodyguard called... Kevin?"

Ranger shrugged. "He was pretty good for an attendant. Had a cool beard."

"But... Kevin? Who calls a demon... Kevin?!"

"His mother, I guess?"

Molly muttered, "Someone I know calls a spirit that lives in a skull 'Bob'."

Bård perked up, eyes still watering, and choked out, "Bob?"

Harry shook his head. "Not your Bob."

Molly added, "Harry's Bob is a spirit.  Like a wikipedia for magic."

Bård frowned at her and then bent over again to heave again.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Anyway, which corpse is...was... Kevin the brute demon?"

Ranger handed back the binoculars. "Wearing a grey robe with red trim. He's resting right on top. But he's all shriveled."

Harry looked back toward the grave and gulped. "He's drained. Drained of blood and fluid and life. What'd he look like before?" He handed the binoculars back to Jones, who raised them to look again.

Calle offered, "He was a big man, erm... demon. He was very muscular. Looked like a caveman or a weight lifter."

Molly shook her head when Harry offered her a chance to look and so he passed the binoculars to Luccio. Molly asked, "I've been thinking about those matawyrms. Didn't I read somewhere that they are trainable? You can ride them, right?"

Luccio said, "Some can. But not by any humans or vampires."

"Do you think this all could be a serpent thing, ma'am?"

Luccio lowered the binoculars and passed them to Calle. "A serpent... thing?"

"A drakaina or maybe lilith?"

Harry asked, "What, like Lilith the lilith, or just some random liliths?"

Molly shrugged, "I don't know. A serpent-class demon. Because of the matawyrms."

Bård wiped his mouth, "I still don't think the monster that took Vegard was trying to kill him. Vegard's shield didn't fire."

Molly said, "Right! Maybe the matawyrm just took Vegard and the others like a hunting dog would catch a goose. Maybe it grabbed him to take them here like it did Kevin."

Luccio said, "How did this shield of his work-"

Bård cut her off, "So could Vegard and Ruby be here now? Maybe locked up or... in a big refrigerator somewhere or..."

Jones shrugged. "Most monsters like their food fresh."

Calle grimaced, horrified by the mental image of Vegard hanging dead in a meat locker somewhere. Or worse, being sucked dry by some monster. He looked at the pile of bodies through the binoculars. It was also a pile of refuse, papers, wood and metal. And what were unmistakably body parts mixed in with shriveled people and cows or horses. There were also a large number of what looked like enormous dark eggs, probably a half meter or so high. He wondered if there were dragons in the Nevernever. He hoped not; he'd had his fill of dragons in Tokyo.

He said, "I don't see any corpse that looks remotely like Vegard or that girl. What are those big eggs?"

Harry took the binoculars back. "Those aren't eggs. That's... poop."

Calle grimaced. "What sort of thing makes such enormous... poops?"

Molly offered, "What about a lamia?"

Jones said, "Maybe. I once cleaned out a lamia nest... some of their meals looked shriveled like that brute demon. And the shit was elephant sized."

Luccio chewed her lip. "They may have moved into the Temple after the Red Court was destroyed."

Calle asked, "What's a lamia?"

Jones took the binoculars back from Harry and looked again, saying, "Usually looks a big snake with some human features. You know, human-looking from the waist up. Like a mermaid. But worse."

Molly made a face. "Yuck. Don't lamia eat babies?"

Luccio answered, "Some of the Mediterranean ones do. Most lamia just drink blood."

Harry groaned. "Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes?"

Molly said softly, "The moon was almost full when we got here."

Luccio groaned, "And they took a lot of children."

Harry slapped himself in the forehead. "Hell's bells!"

Bård asked uneasily, "What is the matter?"

Harry explained, "If it's lamia and they're in with some Big Bad... then this whole operation isn't a plot to extort magic users. This has just been a grocery shopping expedition for a big feast! A big ritual with lots of murder. For what though?"

Jones grunted, "Nothing good. Blood magic. They're probably invoking something or someone."

Luccio sighed, "It would draw power tremendous power from such a sacrifice."

Harry sobered and said, "I get really pissed off when monsters kill children."

Jones grunted, "A lamia would love a magic-born child as dinner..."

Bård clenched his fists and said firmly. "Nobody is going to eat my daughter."

Harry nodded angrily. "Right. But we can't do this by force. That many kids... all this trouble to get them in a short time... there's a Big Bad in there. A very big, very bad Bad. Might even be Tiamat herself."

Calle said, "I thought Tiamat was a guy."

Bård growled, "Tiamat is an it. Not a man or woman."

Harry waved his hand. "Regardless, whoever it is, they must have called in a lot of debts all at the same time to stage a world-wide kidnapping. He or she would know we'd come after our kids so it all had to be done fast."

Luccio folded her arms. "We will not be enough to do free the victims."

Harry shrugged, "I don't know, I've gone up against Big Bads before. We just need a little preparation."

"A lot of preparation."

"We'll have to sneak in." He pointed at Molly.

Molly shrugged. "I can get us in, but veiling dozens of kids... I don't know."

Luccio looked grim. "With something on this scale, they would be fools not to have perimeter wards that we have likely tripped. They surely already know we're here."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and walked back past Calle toward the west. "With the time dilation we can't count on backup arriving in time. Who knows how fast time is passing here or in that temple?  I don't-" He froze.

Jones and Luccio took hold of the hilts of their swords.

Calle glanced around. Now what?

Harry whispered, "You see that?" He pointed back the way they'd come.

  
The group turned to look. Just road.

Jones said, "I don't see anything. Wait..."

A pair of pale eyes blinked out of the lengthening shadows near their hiding spot in the trees. Then another pair. And another.

Calle peered into the darkness and whispered, "Should we run, or hide, or...?"

He jumped when a voice behind him said softly, "There' _th_ nowhere to run, you _th_ impleton."

Calle sighed with relief and announced, "Grumpy cat has returned." He glanced at Bård. Bård was staring resolutely toward the temple, unimpressed or unaware of the malks.

Luccio stepped forward and bowed. She said, "Scout Wadjet. We meet again."

Wadjet blinked back at her and said, "Ye _th_ , Captain. Thi _th_ time, my pack i _th_ here. And our prime. To protect and aid the A _th_ i _th_ i."

Luccio met eyes with Harry. Calle frowned and asked, "Protect and aid a sissy?"

The malk ignored Calle. "A _th_ i _th_ i.  One of the A _th_ i _th_ i i _th_  already in the temple. Our pack was _th_ unable to prevent hi _th_ capture."

Molly asked, "What is the A _th_ i _th_ i?"

Luccio said, "Azizi. It means _beloved of gods_."

Calle said, "Do you mean Vegard?"

Bård turned suddenly. "Vegard was blessed by Blueberry. Mothra. I was too."

Wadjet repeated, "The vipers _th_ killed two of our family and dragged them into their den." His eyes gleamed. "We killed many of their family in return."

Luccio bowed her head. "I'm sorry to hear of your losses."

Wadjet blinked at Bård and said, "We were _th_ ent by Inanna to protect and aid the A _th_ i _th_ i."

Calle met eyes with Bård and said, "Bob called Mio 'Inanna'."

Luccio asked, "Who is Bob?"

Harry frowned. "Hold on, Bård, didn't you say _your_ Bob had something to do with Tiamat?"

Bård grunted with disgust and turned away.

Luccio and Jones exchanged a glance. Jones asked, "Something to do with Tiamat?"

Calle explained, "Mio was an 80,000-year-old warrior we met in Tokyo. She worked for Mothra. She was fighting Bob, remember? Vegard said he called her Inanna and she called him Tiamat."

Molly said, "That's right! It was in the book."

"Yes."

Harry met eyes with Luccio. "Inanna. Tiamat. Both are Sumerian god names. It makes sense. Mothra might be some sort of sky spirit related to Inanna."

Luccio asked, "Mothra?"

Harry pushed his hands into his hair and exclaimed. "I _really._ _Am. An idiot!_   These lamia are looking for magic users children, virgins, whatever, to set up some extremely nasty ritual. And Tiamat has been holed up with the naga for the last year, nursing her wounds after having her butt kicked during the Titan attacks. This probably has something to do with Tiamat or some other equally horrible Snake God."

Calle frowned, "Are there a lot of snake gods? Because-"

Harry cut him off and turned to the two wardens. "Bård and his brother, who ** _Jones here_** let get dragged off by a matawyrm, are the guys that killed the Midgard Serpent last year."

Luccio and Jones couldn't hide their surprise. Jones recovered first and said tightly, "Were you going to ever mention that, Dresden, or...?"

"Thought I did."

Calle glanced at Bård. If Bob was back Bård might not be up to facing him. But Bård wasn't paying attention. He had turned to face the Black Temple. He had his eyes closed and his hands outstretched toward the golden spire.

As the Wardens continued to argue, Calle stepped close to Bård and asked quietly in Norwegian, _"What are you doing?"_

Bård said softly, _"Trying to find Vegard. To see if he's in there. And alive. He showed me a little how to... sense people when we were in the hospital. We could sense all the people there, it was amazing. And a mouse, actually."_

_"Can you see Vegard? Or Nora? Or your sister... Ruby?"_

_"I'm not sure. There are a lot of people in that place. I don't know. I'm not as good as Vegard was... is... at this. At least I think we're alone here, except for all the big cats. There aren't other animals anywhere nearby but-"_ Bård's eyes snapped open and he began searching the undergrowth.

The wardens broke off their discussion and turned to watch. Calle realized that Wadjet and the few other malks he could see were also watching Bård intently. Even Mouse had walked over to investigate.

Bård straightened. He held a little red squirrel in his hands. He showed it to Calle.

Calle asked, _"It looks like a baby. Is it dead?"_

_"Nei. I think it's just scared."_

Mouse sniffed the creature and let out a little whine.

Ranger came over to look as well and said, "Weird pointy looking ears. Maybe it's a mutant squirrel."

Bård let out a breath and said evenly in English, "It's a normal species in Scandinavia."

"How'd it get here?"

Mouse chuffed. The squirrel abruptly righted itself, looked around rapidly, jumped onto Mouse's head and disappeared into the wild mane of fur between Mouse's shoulder blades.

Luccio folded her arms. "Now there is something you don't see every day. But can we be we sure it is a squirrel? It could be a spy or one of the wee folk in disguise."

Bård turned to her. "No. It's my nephew's pet squirrel. He was kidnapped along with my daughter. They're definitely in the temple."

Harry frowned, "How do you know it's your nephew's pet?"

Bård and Jones said simultaneously, "Dog said so."

Harry looked reproachfully at Mouse. "You never tell me anything."

Mouse replied, "Woof."


	25. Harry Potter isn't that popular with Serpents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif meets a really big snake. Vegard is croaking. The kids start figuring out what is going on.

[](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/YStW4Ch25Glucagon_zpsmhzx1nmr.jpg.html)

_"Sif? Stop stabbing me!"_

_*I'm sorry! I can't help it!*_

_"What did you do to her?"_

_"She is marked. She is honored to serve."_

      _*No, I'm not honored. Please, storebror, forgive me! I'm trying to fight her!*_

Sif screamed as the dagger pressed forward through the magic sigils on Vegard's shoulder. Of course she couldn't actually scream. She would have screamed if she could control her voice or limbs. But she was way back here in the corner, watching Lady Meret's will use her like a puppet. She could scream all she wanted in here. She expected she hadn't actually made any noise at all.

Vegard's dark eyes widened, and his expression turned from one of hurt betrayal to one of angry determination. He knew. He knew she didn't want to hurt him. He knew Meret was forcing her to hurt him. He knew. She wasn't sure if that made it any better.

The Serpent yanked his head to the side, and now Sif couldn't see his face. But she could see that his shield was failing. The dagger was moving forward slowly, only a millimeter at a time, the shield sparking and sputtering as it fought the razor sharp tip of the blade. It was only a matter of time before it lost its power completely.

So why was Vegard singing opera? And he kept using magic to toss Lady Meret away like a ragdoll. Over and over again the Serpent was hurled backwards, only to dart forward again, more excited than before. Why wasn't he using his magic to throw Sif backwards? She was the immediate danger.

Maybe in one of Meret's rushes she would accidentally kill Sif. That would be a blessing. That might save Vegard's life.

The Serpent was weaving and bobbing with anticipation. It couldn't wait.  Sif realized there must be some reason Meret didn't want to destroy Vegard's ward herself. Maybe his magic was poisonous to her. If Sif died or passed out it would buy Vegard time to regroup. But his attention wasn't focused on Sif at all. Why not?

Maybe he thought Meret had to die to free Sif. Maybe he wasn't thinking at all.

Sif silently prayed to Satan to destroy Meret the way He'd destroyed the monster that grabbed and attacked Vegard back in the grasses. Nothing. She shouldn't be surprised; she'd tried to vaporize the Serpent that had woken her up in the infirmary two days ago. Nothing happened then either. Either Satan wasn't listening anymore or the Serpents had done something to keep her from accessing Him. She couldn't even kill herself. She could only kill Vegard.

She shouted, _"Vegard! Please! Push me away!"_ But she couldn't make a sound. She could only watch.

She groaned as the blade finally began to divide his flesh, destroying the spell that had protected him over the last year. Sweet, thoughtful, wonderful, beautiful Vegard. He had saved her life and she was repaying him with pain and death. He was going to die and it was her fault.

She tried not to feel the vibrations in the dagger as it ground and crunched its way between his clavicle and upper ribs. She didn't remember human anatomy as well as that of her animal patients, but wasn't the knife slicing through his lung? Wasn't there a big artery there? There was blood, but it wasn't spurting. Maybe he was healing himself? _Oh Vegard. Why didn't you push me away?_

The dagger met hard resistance again, probably hitting the inner surface of his scapula. As Vegard frantically twisted and yanked on his arms, trying to free them from the straps that held him to the arms of the chair, she could feel the tip of the blade moving to and fro with the bone it was stuck into. _Definitely the scapula._

Her body pressed all of its weight against the pummel of the dagger and finally, with an audible snap and thunk, the dagger broke through the bone and into the wood of the chair.

The moment it went through, Meret swatted Sif out of the way and she fell heavily to the plush red carpet. She landed face down, and couldn't see what the Serpent was doing to Vegard. Vegard's right foot was only millimeters from Sif's right hip, and it kicked and flexed and shook in spasms against her thigh as he writhed in pain and fear. Meret was so fixated on her prey that she'd forgotten about Sif. And without an order to move her enslaved body, Sif could do nothing but lie motionless on the floor and listen while her beloved _storebror_  died.

His protests soon turned into wordless shouts, and then grunts, and then moans and then... nothing but the sickening sound of Meret sucking at his neck. Assuming she fed upon him the way Sif had seen other Serpents feed in the last two days.

Finally, the foot Vegard had pressed against Sif's body went limp and Sif sobbed with grief. Or she would have sobbed if she could have. Instead, only a bit of drool dripped from the corner of her slack mouth and onto the thick wool pile. Hopefully Meret would continue to forget Sif was there at all and Sif would at least be able to die in a few days from hunger... or maybe a blood clot. She deserved worse.

The heavy door to the salon slammed open and the air shook with a deep, enraged roar. A very, _very_ large Serpent shot toward them and Meret was lifted off of the ground and away from Vegard. Sif could see Meret's coiled tail flailing helplessly in the air before the snake flew across the room and slammed against the fireplace hard enough to audibly crack its marble face. The ornate clock that sat on its mantel crashed to the ground and splintered into thousands of pieces of glass and porcelain, some of them skittering across the carpeting and landing on Sif's bare legs.

A second, normal-sized Serpent joined the big one. Vegard's chair splintered as the arms of the chair were snapped off like matchsticks. The Serpents were so strong. Sif's heart hammered in her chest. Were they here to save Vegard or to finish draining him of blood?

The bigger newcomer effortlessly picked Sif up by the back of her neck with one of its massive, muscled hands and held her up to its own face, causing her spine to adjust itself with oddly satisfying pops and clicks. The monster that held her was unmistakably a Prophet. _A Prophet!_ She couldn't believe she was seeing one in the flesh. Its unadorned male humanoid torso, covered in golden scales, merged below its waist with a long and golden serpent's body that was at least a meter in diameter. Its overlarge, unblinking golden eyes stared at her, and its scaled, hairless, golden forehead merged with a wide, cobra-like hood that flared outward where ears would have been on a human. It was terrifying and beautiful.

It smelled a bit like teak. Much nicer than Meret's fishy smell.

She'd seen illustrations of Prophets in her childhood. They'd looked all the world like historical images of ancient Egyptian kings. In college she'd decided that the Church just stole the historical imagery to dazzle the faithful. But here it was. A Prophet. So prophets were real. _Of course they were._ Could this one read her mind? Could it bring Vegard back to life?

The Prophet said sternly, his voice hissing and vibrating, "Isss he alive, Neheb?" While waiting for an answer, the Prophet's eyes flicked over the fresh tattoo on Sif's neck. She knew the cuneiform letters the Scribe had inked two days ago described her status and her training. None of the Serpents ever needed to ask which servants did what. The tattoo was a permanent ID badge.

A male voice, presumably Neheb's, replied, "Barely."

The Prophet shook Sif and commanded her attention, the words echoing and whispering in her mind. Was she truly hearing him or was he using telepathy? She couldn't tell. Regardless, his thoughts were clear. He said, "Healer. Do what is ne _ss_ cessary to keep this prisoner alive until the apotheo _ss_ si _ss_. If he die _ss_ s, you will die. Do you under _ss_ stand?"

Sif replied, "I understand, Prophet."

"Give him blood. There is ample _ss_ supply. Take what he need _ss_ s. Do not allow him to _ss_ speak for he can kill you with his voi _ss_ ce." The Prophet tossed her to the second Serpent, presumably Neheb, who already had Vegard's limp body over one shoulder. He caught Sif, tucked her under his other arm like a football and rapidly slithered out the door, past where the Prophet was already slashing at Meret in fury and howling at her in a demonic language Sif hadn't heard for fifteen years.

They glided faster than Sif could run through the marble-floored halls. She tried to see Vegard on the other side of Neheb's body, but could only make out his lower legs dangling limply against Neheb's belly. At least she could be sure it was Vegard; she could see the silly Senkveld tattoo on his calf.

She was relieved to see their destination was the small infirmary set up for the servants of the Serpents. She'd wondered at the place when she'd woken up there. She assumed the Serpents kept healers for their slaves/food the same way farmers kept vets for their livestock.

They burst into the infirmary, and Neheb tossed Sif lightly to the flloor. As he lay Vegard onto a gurney, he commanded, "Speak. What blood do you require?"

"Four units of O negative human blood."

"Do what is necessary to keep him alive. I will alert the staff." Neheb darted back out through the door.

At Neheb's words Sif felt her own will _almost_ take control of her body again. _Anything necessary to keep him alive_ gave her a lot of choice.

Sif rushed to Vegard's side and bent her ear to his lips. He was breathing. _Good_. She pressed an ear to his chest and could feel his heart pounding. _Good._ His right leg was dangling a bit off of the gurney and she lifted it and shoved him so he lay a bit straighter.  She looked around the tidy room. Where did they keep everything? She didn't even see a blood pressure cuff.

_Don't just stand there.  Do something._  Her hands fumbled for the levers on the bed, and she tilted the gurney so his legs were raised a bit higher than his head. Then she spotted a cabinet door labeled "I.V. Supplies." That was something she could do while Neheb fetched the doctor.

She hadn't had to care for a dying human since her days in Illinois. But Vegard was still breathing and his heart was beating. If Vegard was alive he would need fluids and medication and blood. An IV was something she could give to any creature, human or otherwise.

She turned his uninjured arm to get at the vein and inwardly cringed as she rubbed the skin with alcohol. Vegard's hand felt cold. He was in shock.

As she hung a bag of saline with dextrose, Neheb reappeared with the requisite blood and the surgeon.  The surgeon was a woman in her forties with honey-blond hair and kind eyes who immediately ran to Vegard's side. She felt Vegard's neck for a pulse and directed Sif towards the crash cart kept in a closet. In a Midwestern American accent she said, "Lord Neheb told me some on the way. Get him on the monitor. I'll talk you through hooking it up."

Sif nodded and ran to comply. As she began attaching leads to Vegard's chest she said, in a steady voice that sounded far calmer than she felt, "Lady Meret was feeding on him and he was also stabbed and he passed out. I've just hung D10 normal saline; it was all I could find."

"That's fine. His pulse is fast but thready. How did you stop the bleeding?"

"I think he healed himself."

"Healing magic? Turn on the monitor and I'll finish setting it up.  Check his eyes. Where's Watson?"

Neheb grunted, "I will fetch him," and disappeared again.

Sif flipped on the monitor, grabbed a penlight and bent over Vegard. He was dreadfully pale. His jaw hung slack and his eyes were rolled up in his head, the lids slightly open. He looked dead. She pulled up his lids and swung the light back and forth. She called out, "His pupils are reactive. I asked for O negative. I don't know his blood type, but that's the universal donor, isn't it?"

As the surgeon wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his right arm she answered, "That's fine. Get him on oxygen. The tank is behind me in the third cabinet."

Sif rushed to obey and as she dragged the oxygen tank toward the head of the bed she frowned at the monitor. It was still completely dark. She asked, "I turned the monitor on. Is it broken or did I do something wrong?"

The surgeon was frowning at the blood pressure cuff.  Finally, she said, "80 over 50," and pulled down her stethoscope.   She stood, wrapping her braid into a bun that she held in place with a pencil, and explained, "You did fine. The equipment has to warm up. World War II generator and cathode tubes. Anything more modern can't deal with all the ambient magic."

Sif gulped. "What should I do now?"

The surgeon handed her a breathing mask. "Get the oxygen going and maintain the airway. Do you know how to bag him? I need to hang some blood and look at the wound."

Sif nodded and moved to the head of the gurney where she cradled Vegard's face upwards and pressed the breathing mask over his nose and mouth. She'd just gotten the hang of it when another healer was tossed into the room.

The newcomer was a dark-skinned man in his fifties called Watson; Sif was fairly sure he was in charge of the infirmary. Sif had seen him working here this morning at the end of his shift. He looked very rumpled; Neheb probably just plucked him out of his bed without warning.

As Watson pushed himself unsteadily to his feet the surgeon called out, "Male magic user in his thirties. Feeder. Severe blood loss. Stab wound into a defensive ward. 80 over 50, 240. We're on the first unit of O negative and D10 normal saline."

Watson grabbed a stethoscope and said, in an accent that sounded vaguely Australian, "Get me a blood sugar." He glanced at Sif and asked, "You're the new one, the vet? What's your name, my dear?"

"Sif. The Prophet told me I have to stay with Vegard."

"Hm?"

The surgeon called out, "She means the Avatar."

"Ah. I understand." Watson used the stethoscope to listen to Vegard's heart and lungs. He murmured, "And how long ago did he lose consciousness?"

"Five or six minutes."

"Relative, personal or standard?"

"I don't know what you mean."

The surgeon glanced up from where she was peering at Vegard's finger, squeezing out a drop of blood. She asked, "Have you been with him since he passed out?"

"Yes. Since before he was stabbed and Lady Meret began to feed on him."

"And for you it's been five minutes?"

"Yes, ma'am. Well, seven minutes now."

Watson asked, "Was he casting spells when he passed out?"

"Yes, sir. I think so."

"What's the sugar?"

The surgeon called out, "Glucose's 30. There's the dagger as well as shards of wood in the wound."

Watson turned to grab a vial out of a cabinet and drew it up into a syringe. He called out, "I see; we're going to have to dig all that out. If he stabilizes we'll have to knock him out for surgery. Sif, my dear, grab an intubation kit."

Sif glanced around; she didn't know where the kits were kept. Shouldn't they be near the crash cart? She'd only had a half-hour tour of the infirmary.

Another woman Sif didn't recognize, who looked a bit East Asian, ran into the infirmary, breathless. Watson barked at her to start a type and crossmatch and then glanced at the surgeon. He said, "Honey, you'd better get the intubation kit. Our vet looks a bit lost."

The surgeon reached past Sif to pull a bagged kit off of the shelf behind her. She said encouragingly, "Don't worry, Sif. We'll save him."

"Thank you."

Watson injected the syringe into the I.V. port Sif had placed. "Check his blood pressure for me again, won't you, my dear? Both sides."

As Sif pulled the cuff out, the monitor finally sputtered to life and started beeping. She glanced up; Vegard's heart rate was 310. That was definitely bad.

So she prayed, _Wake up, Vegard. Wake up and fix yourself. We need you._

 

* * *

 

"Hey. Are you awake?"

Jonas shifted his pillow slightly and mumbled, "Five more minutes."

Someone poked his shoulder. "Something's happening." Jonas's eyes snapped open.

On the bed, on the other side of Honey, Nora was lying with her head propped up on one fist. She put a finger to her lips and whispered, "They just took some kids away."

Jonas froze. He wanted to sit up and look around, but he didn't want to attract attention. This would be their third morning in the "safe house", as the guards called it. It was clearly _not_ a house. He and some of the other boys had spent the previous day going over every wooden panel and stained glass window. The room (or hall or chapel or whatever it was) looked like it was built in the Middle Ages. The windows stretched upward toward the arched ceiling, and depicted stylized images of trees.  No saints. And the windows let in no light at all, as if they'd been painted black on the outside. And he hadn't been able to feel even a hint of a draft of air through any of the joins in the polished walls.

Within the hall there were bunk beds enough for every child to have their own, but most of the children now slept in twos and threes. And although most of the kids had been sleepy when they'd arrived, Jason and Nora quietly spread the word that there might be a drug in the bottled water. Yesterday it became obvious even to the guards that no one was drinking it, and a sleep curfew had been enforced.

Although the kids that came in the first night were all supposedly "rescued" from monsters, most children brought in the next day and all who arrived yesterday said they'd been flat out kidnapped. A few of them had cuts or bruises and they were pretty scared. Nora had taken it upon herself to cheer up or comfort some of the most frightened ones. Jonas had been impressed with her ability to calm the other kids down or make them laugh. She wasn't shy with the newcomers at all. Jonas wondered if he would be the same if he hadn't been homeschooled by his mother.

And what _about_ his mother? Where was she? He had been so certain she'd been the woman he'd seen the first morning here. Why would she ignore them? Maybe the kidnappers were using Jonas and Honey as hostages to make her do something bad. If so, was his father here as well? Jonas was keeping an eye out for anyone else he knew, but so far all he'd seen were strangers.

And now some kids were being taken away?

Jonas tried to relax but whispered, "Who'd they take away?"

"The reds. Including that Swedish kid Alex."

The reds. Everyone had been given a plastic hospital-style wristband when they arrived, and each wristband was one of seven colors. That first night there'd been a lot of greens. Jonas, Nora and Honey had been given whites, and from what they could tell only three others got the white bands. They'd talked to them the second day. There was a redheaded girl called Roxanne from Minnesota, an Indian girl, Manasa, from London and a boy called Samuel from Nigeria. Even though they all were able to communicate (in English), they weren't able to figure out what they had in common.

But now the kids with red wristbands had been taken away. Jonas tried to remember which other kids were the reds. He swallowed and asked, "How many?"

Nora glanced at Honey, who was awake and watching them both with wide eyes. She answered, "Eight. They came in, just woke them up and marched them out. Didn't even change clothes."

Honey whispered, "Did they take them to murder them?"

Jonas chewed his lip and rubbed Honey's shoulder. He didn't want to scare her worse than she already was. "I guess we'll see."

He met eyes with Nora. One of the dimmed "nighttime" lamps was just behind her and it gave her hair a slight glow at the edges. Her hair was rumpled from sleeping and the halo of light made her look like an angel.

She said, "I had the strangest nightmare. I dreamed my father was here, that he came to get us out of here. But when I ran to hug him there were snakes coming out of his mouth and eyes."

Jonas grimaced. "That sounds terrible."

Nora sighed. "It was. Do you think my father is here? Or yours? But maybe possessed or something like Uncle Vegard or Auntie Sif? Mind-controlled?"

Jonas glanced at Honey. She whispered, "Did they make her forget us?"

He sighed and rubbed her arm again. "Mamma would never forget us. And I've been thinking about Uncle Vegard taking us away from home. Something about him looked wrong. I think it was some sort of disguise or magic spell. I don't think he was there at all."

Nora asked, "How could that be?"

"Think about it.  We were all really surprised when the sky went black. It was hard to see and we were scared. I think we were tricked. So it might be that our mom wasn't here at all either. And why did they trick us into coming here but they just grabbed the other kids? What's different about us from the others?"

"I don't know." Nora shook her head and searched Jonas's face for so long his face started to heat up. He was thankful the light was dim. Finally she added, "You don't use mascara."

He blinked. "Mascara?"

"Sofie says the reason you have such dark eyelashes is that you use mascara. Because you are so blond you should have blond eyelashes."

Jonas frowned with indignation. "But why would I put on my mother's makeup?"

Nora shrugged. "I said I thought your eyes were pretty and Sofie said it was just because they're so pale like your mom's and you put on mascara to make them stand out."

Jason blurted, "You think my eyes are pretty?" and immediately regretted it.

Nora grinned and said, "You're turning red."

Honey whispered, "Don't worry, Jonas, Nora likes you."

If Jonas could disappear he would. Panicked, he tried to think of an excuse to run away. But if he wanted to go hide in the bathroom he'd have to talk to the guard at the end of the hall to let him out and besides, he didn't want to leave the girls alone. But his heart was pounding so hard he thought the girls must be able to hear. He said, "Thanks I... I need to... we should... get some sleep. I'm a little too warm I'll just go up on the bunk."

Nora's grin widened. "Okay. _Sov godt."_

Jonas climbed up on the bunk, got under the covers and desperately tried to hear what the girls were whispering about. He couldn't tell. And he couldn't get back to sleep, and he was afraid to move for fear the girls would hear the bed creaking and think he was doing something he wasn't. He couldn't decide if the girls had been teasing him or not. If Nora liked him, did she like him as a cousin or as a boyfriend? What if she really did have a crush on him all these years? He had to find a way for them to escape. She would really like him if he saved all of them. Even if she was just teasing him now.

Fortunately it was only an hour or so later that the morning alarm went off and they all got out of bed and had a breakfast of the usual (but delicious) fresh bread, rice and vegetables. Then everyone got cleaned up and changed into clean clothes. They were given the same thing to wear every day: white cotton dresses for the girls, and white T-shirts and white sports pants for the boys. Everyone got clean underwear but no socks or shoes. After everyone was dressed, they broke off into groups, reading books or talking quietly. The reds did not return.

Nora was looking at a much worn English book called _King of the Wind_ and Honey was holding a copy of _Charlotte's Web_. Much to the girls' annoyance there weren't any Harry Potter books. Jonas grabbed a _Vikingskatter_ book, the only Norwegian language book in the case. They all three sat down to read on one of the little IKEA sofas that sat in the middle of the hall, Honey in the middle, and pretended to read.

He wondered about that bookshelf. If you are going to kidnap people, why give them something to read? Just to keep them quiet? All of the kids were about the same age and he knew a lot of the boys would have been happier to just play video games all day long. Maybe their captors didn't want to give them access to a television? About a third of the books provided were in English, and the rest in a variety of other languages, including Japanese, Korean and Chinese. There were a dozen Asian kids among them, but only three of them, two Australians and a Canadian, spoke English.

Nora leaned over to Jonas and whispered in Norwegian, "I count forty-nine left. Plus us is fifty-two."

Honey said, "Me too."

Jonas added, "So sixty to start. And red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple and white wristbands. There are only six of us whites. You said eight reds?"

Nora nodded. "There are eight to ten of everyone else."

"You sure?"

"Yesterday was very boring."

Jonas nodded. "But why only six whites? We were the first ones here."

"I don't know."

Honey put down her book and said, "It's been almost three hours. Do you think the reds are coming back?"

"I don't-" Jonas broke off as the doors opened. Four men walked in. They all had short hair, black tattoos of a snake on their necks, and wore white tunics, white pants and dark sandals. One of them, a grey-haired white man, raised a clipboard and began calling out names.

The nine children who were named stood and were beckoned to form a line. It was the oranges. They didn't seem upset at all to have been called. That was odd, wasn't it? In fact, no one was making a sound. Jonas glanced around. Everyone was staring at the guards, but no one he could see was showing any emotion. Weren't the kids afraid?

Jonas couldn't bear the bizarre silence. He cleared his throat and stood. "Where are you taking them?"

The man with the clipboard said evenly, with a French accent, "Doctor check-up." He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing to worry about, son."

"What about the others? The ones that left this morning?"

"Still getting some tests. Everything is fine."

Honey grabbed Jonas's hand and pulled at it, begging softly, _"Sit down, Jonas, please, sit down, be quiet, sit down, sit down..."_

But Nora frowned and stood up as well. She asked, "Why are you splitting us up? Are you going to murder all of us?"

The man's smile vanished. He peered at the three of them and said, "We are not going to murder all of you. You have to stay here for safety. We'll be back soon."

They marched the oranges out of the room and closed the doors behind them.

The instant the doors closed the weird silence broke as everyone began talking to one another, and many began weeping.

Jonas met eyes with Nora. "That was strange."

_"Ja."_

"And pretty brave, Nora, to just stand up and ask that."

Nora shrugged, "You stood up. And I wanted to know."

"He didn't really answer, did he?"

Nora glanced at Honey and said, "He did say they weren't going to murder all of us."

Honey said in a small voice, "Maybe they will only murder _some_ of us."

Nora chewed her lip and leaned closer. She asked softly, "Can you really do magic like my father?"

Jonas swallowed, surprised. Nora hadn't mentioned anything about his magic since the first night. He said slowly, "I'm not supposed to use it except in an emergency." He squeezed Honey's hand. "But if they try to split us up... I'll do... something."

Honey nodded and whispered, "Don't worry, Nora. He won't let them murder us."

Jonas gulped. "Maybe we should come up with a plan."

Nora scooted closer to Honey and whispered to both of them, "I have an idea about that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter turned out to be from the viewpoints of Sif and Jonas, which is not as fun, in my opinion, as telling the story through Ylvis, Calle and/or Harry. But alas Vegard was unconscious and I needed to set up the scene so that the next chapters can go forward. Next chapter returns to Bårdsensurroundsound and Vegard-O-Vision. :-) Woohoo!


	26. You Gotta Have Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things really begin to escalate. Also, cats with thumbs.

[ ](http://imgur.com/AJifPhF)

"White bands!"

Jonas rubbed his eyes and squinted at the too bright lights. What time was it?

The man repeated, "Whites! You have a visitor. Front and center."

That got Jonas's attention. Almost everyone was gone.  Why a visitor now?

Throughout the previous day, every four hours or so two guards called out names on a clipboard, lined up the children and marched them out through the doors. None of the children called forward protested or tried to escape. They just marched out looking resigned. Maybe the water was still drugged. Jonas had no intention of going quietly,

It had been obvious the children were being taken out of the room by the color of their wristbands. Once the Yellows and Greens were gone the guards dropped the pretense of individual attention and just called out, "Blue bands!" and "Purple bands!" The Purples were gone before dinnertime.

That left the remaining six children frightened and confused when four hours passed and no one came to take them away. They were the last ones left. They were given no explanation of what was happening and by midnight they'd gone to bed to an uneasy sleep.

Nora and Honey had taken the bottom bunk and Jonas had climbed on top, intending to take watch. But he'd fallen asleep. Stupid.

But he was awake now. He rolled and dropped off the bunk. The girls were still in the bottom bunk, their eyes wide.

The other three kids, Manasa, Roxanne and Samuel, had slept in the bunks on either side of theirs and they were all awake as well. But none of them made a move to leave their beds.

The man with the clipboard, a burly dark man with short-cropped hair said irritably, "Which one is Nora Yellvisocker?"

Jonas took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting in his head. He had to concentrate. He had to center himself. This might be the moment he'd have to do something to defend Nora. He was ready. He called out, "What do you want her for?"

A far deeper voice answered, "I would like to look at her," and then a giant _thing_ slid soundlessly into the room.

The thing was a hairless, golden, scaled man from the waist up. And he was so muscular he looked more like an anatomy book than a living being. He'd folded his arms over his barrel-chest and his yellow eyes were flicking unnaturally fast, birdlike, between the children. In the silence his ribs expanded and contracted very, very slowly. Too slowly.

The thing wore no clothing, although below the waist he was nothing but an enormous snake. His tail followed him into the room, drew forward and curled around him on the floor, encircling him for stability.

Roxanne, the girl from Minnesota, let out an involuntary little scream.

Jonas quietly sucked in another slow breath, drawing in the power from his surroundings. The monsters really were back. This was definitely it.

The snake man said to Clipboard Man, "Bring the girls over here."

Clipboard nodded and strode toward the children.

Jonas knew he would only get one shot, but he had practiced many, many times in the woods near his home over the last year. He could do this. He took another deep breath, drawing in more power. He shivered with the familiar sensation, the tickle of millions of tiny threads pulling inward and coalescing in a swirling mass just behind his navel. He exhaled as silently as possible, although his breath fogged in the now-chilled air surrounding him.

He focused on Clipboard's chest. Another quick deep breath in and then he shouted, shooting the energy he'd stolen from the room into Clipboard's heart, hammering the molecules there, nudging them apart.

Clipboard let out a startled yelp and dropped to the floor, a basketball-sized hole in his chest, scorch marks staining the edges of the cauterized wound.

In the blink of an eye the snake man closed the distance between them, grabbed Jonas by the neck and lifted him a meter into the air. Jonas coughed and choked, desperately clutching the monster's wrist and pulling uselessly at the fingers throttling him.

Behind him Nora cried out, "I'm the one you want! I'm Nora! Please! Don't hurt him!"

With a casual flick of the wrist, Snake-Man flung Jonas across the room, smashing him into and cracking the expensive wood paneling. Jonas felt and heard the bones of his left forearm snap and he slid down the wall, banging his forehead on the little reading table that had had the misfortune to break his fall. He groaned in pain and blearily squinted back toward the group. The snake man had snatched Nora up by the neck and peered at her as her feet thrashed in the air.

Jonas moaned, " _Nei..."_ and lost consciousness.

 

* * *

Vegard had never felt so comfortable in his life. He lay on a soft bed with a down pillow that supported his neck perfectly. He really did not want to wake up just yet. He took in a deep breath and smelled baking bread and... hot cocoa?

Smiling, he opened one eye and found he was stretched out on a overlarge, overstuffed sofa. The pillow that supported his head lay on a woman's lap. Helene? A gentle hand caressed his cheek and he turned into it, planting a kiss onto the soft skin of the palm. He murmured, "Five more minutes."

The soft laugh that responded wasn't Helene. He squinted upwards. "Blueberry?"

Blueberry's blue eyes twinkled with affection. "I'm here."

Vegard frowned. " _Nei_... this isn't right... I was... there was... a monster... a vampire..."

"Yes. There was. I'm so sorry you had to endure that, my child."

Vegard glanced around the room. The shuttered windows were open; summer air laden with the sweet smell of flowers and cut grass washed over him. They were in Blueberry's cottage. He asked, "Is this heaven?"

Blueberry smiled and stroked his hair. "You don't believe in Heaven."

"Am I dead?"

Blueberry took hold of his hand and squeezed it. "You are close to death."

"So is this a hallucination caused by lack of oxygen?"

Her eyes softened with pity. "No, Vegard. I am with you whenever you need me. You are never alone."

He glanced down at himself. The dagger Sif had used to stab him still protruded from his right shoulder, although there was no pain. He couldn't see or feel anything below his waist and the far edge of the sofa was clearly visible. A small grey cat was curled up at the other end. "Where are my legs?"

"You are hanging between worlds. There isn't much time. Tell me, do you want to continue this life?"

He shuddered. He did, but he most definitely did not want to go back to the room where the snake/vampire/opera enthusiast and Sif were murdering him. But he did want to see his family again; he ached to hold his children in his arms if only one more time. He sighed. "I'd like to see my children grow up."

Blueberry smiled. "I knew you would. I'm so proud of your courage. You've endured so much and I am to blame."

"It's not your fault. It's fine."

Blueberry arched a skeptical brow but said, "The wyrm has destroyed the protective ward I gave you. But it can't take away the force of your will. You must stay strong. Bård and others are coming to rescue you. They are nearby."

The breeze through the window cooled suddenly and the cat at the end of the sofa yawned and began licking its paw.

Vegard said, "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but you said Bård was coming when I was paralyzed."

"I did say that. It is still true. Vegard, do you have faith in me?"

Vegard frowned. "Why would you ask? Of course I do."

Blueberry squeezed his hand again and bent low. "Your faith can protect you from the evil you face now. But it must be absolute faith. Do you understand?"

"Faith? I've never been religious. What's that noise?"

Blueberry looked up and out the window and her expression hardened. She said urgently, "It's coming. Is your faith in me absolute? And if not... what do you truly believe? What good can you absolutely depend on?"

"I don't understand."

She squeezed his hand harder. "I can't protect you now. Only faith can protect you. Remember your experience in the dark. With Mariam. You knew she wasn't really there. You had faith in your memories."

Vegard gulped. "Bob is coming to get me?"

"Focus on your faith in your children's love, in the magic you can wield, in your brother's determination to find you or in my love and forgiveness. The wyrm can steal your mind if you waver."

The summer sky darkened and lightning struck nearby with a deafening crash. The cat darted off the sofa and into the darkness.

Vegard choked back a sob of fear. He didn't want to face that monster again.

Blueberry began to fade. As she did so she called out urgently, "Don't listen to his lies. Don't trust the visions he will show you. Have faith in me. Trust your brother. Don't give in to despair. Be strong, Vegard. Help is coming."

And she was gone.

Rain abruptly hammered the roof and the strobing lightning transformed the cozy cottage into a damp, grey stone chamber. In the rumbling of the storm were the screams, hisses and groans of thousands of souls, pleading and begging for mercy. _Herregud,_ he was in Hell. The noise grew deafening. He clamped his hands over his ears but the sound crescendoed until it vibrated his bones and rattled his teeth.

Muscular, thick tentacles engulfed him... no, not tentacles. Snakes. Each one as thick as a boa and covered in slick, oily scales. They flowed over his body _en masse_ , extruding a viscous, tacky, salty slime that clung to his skin, stealing away the last bit of warmth he'd felt only moments before. He squeezed his eyes shut as the reptiles wound around and around his arms and legs and neck, their muscled bodies as hard as steel. One pressed against his lips and pried his jaw open, filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. He gagged soundlessly, his stomach churning as the thing slid its endless length into him and coiled in his belly. They were squeezing him from the inside and out, and his torso was swelling like a balloon, a shell, his ribs stretching thin. He'd seen this happen in his nightmares. It was coming true. He was dying. He was going to die...

A faint voice asked, "Vegard? Can you hear me?"

Vegard frantically squinted through the slithering creatures shifting and sliding over his face. Was that Sif? It sounded like her. He could see her... or them... He saw two Sifs, one older than the other. Was she reaching for him through time? Was Sif also dying? He strained to hear what she was saying. He couldn't make it out.

The younger Sif leaned closer and said in Norwegian, "You're safe now, _storebror._ Everything's going to be okay."

That was a lie. He was anything but safe. Nothing was okay. He balled his fists in frustration and the creatures tightened around his arms and body. The snake in his throat wouldn't let him explain. It was hopeless. He was dying. Or he was in Hell. Nothing was going to ever be okay again. Ever.

 

* * *

 

Sif squeezed the airbag attached to the tube down Vegard's throat, watched the second hand on the wall tick through six seconds, squeezed again, watched the second hand for six seconds, squeezed... It was boring, repetitive work. But at least it was easier to breathe for Vegard with a bag than it had been to do via mouth-to-mouth out in the grasses. And it was work she was more than willing to do.

She'd been so terrified for Vegard that her legs had gone wobbly; the surgeon had ordered her to sit down and take over ventilation duty. If Sif wasn't still so anxious for Vegard she probably would be out cold from emotional exhaustion. But she'd hurt him. Now she had to save him.

Fortunately his vitals had stabilized and Watson the doctor (she wondered if that was his first or last name) had left them to return to his bed. Now the surgeon was cleaning out the bits of wooden chair and other debris from the wound through Vegard's right upper chest. Sif looked down from the clock and squeezed the breathing bag again. Evidently modern ventilators didn't function properly here, so she had to ventilate him manually. She yawned and rubbed at her nose through the surgical mask she wore. She felt guilty to yawn. She didn't think she had the right to yawn until Vegard woke up and she explained she hadn't wanted to hurt him.

About an hour ago, as the surgeon had started cleaning the wound from the back, the Prophet's assistant Neheb glided back through the doors and informed them that the mark on Vegard's shoulder must not be allowed to heal, and that he must not be allowed to speak. Sif had a moment of terror when the surgeon had asked, matter-of-factly, "Should we just cut his vocal cords?" Luckily Neheb said no. Although she was relieved, Sif wondered by the Serpents wouldn't want Vegard's talents neutralized. None of this made much sense.

They'd gone on with the procedure, and they'd rolled Vegard over so the surgeon could explore the wound through the front of his chest. It had become boring to watch. She just had to sit here doing the work of a machine. She yawned guiltily again.

The surgeon pulled a long wood splinter out of the wound and said conversationally, "You're tired? One of the others here could take over."

"No, ma'am, the Prophet said I was to stay with him and save him. I was so scared before; I'm just coming down from that."

"Fair enough." The surgeon dropped the splinter into a metal basin. She asked, "Sif, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You call the Avatar a Prophet?"

"I don't know, ma'am, I haven't ever been taught about an Avatar.  But he looked like a Prophet."

"Were you one of the Faithful at the Church of Everlasting Worship? They're the only ones I know that use the term Prophet."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Where?"

"I was in the Fox Lake Community in Illinois. When I was younger."

The surgeon glanced up at her. "When you were younger? Did something happen?"

"Yes, ma'am. I escaped."

"Escaped? Why?"

"It's a long story, ma'am... I mean, Doctor. Sorry."

The surgeon laughed. "We don't have titles or honorifics here, Sif. We are all brothers and sisters. You can call me by my name. It's Honey."

Sif's heart sank, thinking of her daughter. She said, "One of my children is named Honey. I'm very worried about her and her brother. They were taken by the Serpents a few days before I was."

Honey the surgeon dropped another sliver of wood into the basin. "Why would you worry? If they are with the Serpents then they are saved just as surely as you and I are now. Truly blessed."

The surgical assistant bowed his head and murmured a prayer of thanks under his breath.

Sif frowned. "Saved? How can you say that? The Serpents eat us."

Honey chuckled. "They don't _eat_ us. They drink our blood. But given time to recover we can each provide an endless supply. And by infusing them with our essence, we become part of the miracle that gives them power. They cherish us as you cherish your children, Sif. They bring us peace and the assurance of an eternal and protected life. You're a little frightened because you've just arrived and it is so new to you. And Lady Meret got carried away and almost killed your friend here. That is very rare. He'll recover and it won't be long before you both realize how silly you were to worry."

"They're controlling my body. My ability to speak. She made me stab Vegard. That can't be good."

"I don't know why she did that, but I'm sure there was a good reason. And they control you for your own protection. You're frightened now and you might do something dangerous. It happens to most of us when we first arrive. But once you realize the blessing you and your children have been given you won't need to be controlled. I promise you'll have free will as all of us have here. You'll see what an honor it is to be Called."

Honey sighed as she placed the last sliver of bloodied wood in the basin. "Okay. I think that's the last piece and I've stopped the bleeding, but I'm worried how it will heal, being all the way through the bone and the back. Let's irrigate the wound with antibiotics and place a drain until it closes. And get me the biggest and longest bone screw we've got back there. And two bone plates so I can fix it in place."

The assistant nodded and turned away to comply.

Honey adjusted the surgical light and peered down into the wound. She said, "It's an odd coincidence that you're here. I grew up in the Fox Lake Congregation as well. Who were your elders? I might have known them."

Sif froze.

"Sif? You need to keep ventilating the patient."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I..." Sif's heart began beating so strongly she thought surely the whole room could hear it. She asked, "Your name is Honey?"

"That's right."

Sif managed to stammer, "My daughter... Honey... I named her after my mother. My mother was called Honey Larsdatter. Did you know her?"

The surgeon hesitated and met eyes with Sif. She said slowly, "I haven't used my last name in a long time, but that's me.  I never had a daughter called Sif."

"When I was born my mother called me Ruby."

Over the mask, Honey's eyes widened and the clamp she'd been holding clattered onto the floor. She recovered and pulled off her gloves and mask as she stood. She said sharply, "Daniel, take over the patient's ventilation."

The assistant moved quickly to relieve Sif of her duty, and Honey moved quickly to pull Sif from her chair and into a tight embrace.

She whispered thickly, "Ruby. My darling girl. I thought I would never see you again. I'm so happy you were Called and that you made it here. So happy."

Sif... Ruby... clung to her mother, overwhelmed, unable to speak. When her mother had disappeared twenty years ago she'd assumed she'd been murdered by the cult. Had she been here in this terrible place all this time?

Her mother said softly, "I knew my children would likely be Called. How are your brothers and sisters?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen any of them since I was fourteen. I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry, Ruby. You're finally home. I'm so proud of you."

Sif squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her mother more tightly, so happy to know she was alive and so devastated to find her completely brainwashed. Now Sif had to get Vegard, Honey, Jonas, Nora _and_ her mother out of this horrible place.

Sif looked past her mother to where Vegard still lay on the stretcher, his shoulder wound still open to the air. She swallowed hard and said, "We need to help Vegard."

"Hm?"

"Vegard. You were cleaning out his shoulder injury?"

Her mother gave her another squeeze and drew back. "Of course." She wiped at her eyes and motioned for one of the assistants to bring a new pair of gloves. As she waited she said, "I should have known it was you. You have your sire's eyes. He was a beautiful man. From Wisconsin."

Sif shuddered involuntarily. "Wisconsin?"

Honey chuckled and sat back down beside Vegard as her assistant squirted antiseptic fluid onto her hands. "Wisconsin is not the terrible place the Illinois Elders would have had you believe. I met your sire at a Midwest Festival of the Faithful and he blessed me with you." She dried her hands with a towel and donned gloves again.

Sif allowed the assistant Daniel to continue ventilating duties and watched her mother pick up an overlong screw and slide it into the wound through a round bone plate a few inches in diameter. She asked, "Is that titanium?"

Honey... her mother... answered, "Stainless steel. The iron in it dispels magic. But can you see this? Your friend's flesh is already healing itself. It'll grow around the screw and hold it in place. I'm adding the plate here to keep his body from pushing it out. Once it closes a bit we'll add another to the back."

"He won't be able to move his shoulder if you push it through the scapula."

Honey frowned. "I should have asked Lord Neheb for instructions about that. Well, until I can speak to him we'll just keep an eye on it. If we can encourage it to close from the inside out it should heal properly. He's lucky; I've often wished I'd been born with the gift of healing." Honey began stitching the bar in place through grommets on the plate.

She glanced up and smiled at SIf, or at least her eyes smiled.  She said, "So you became a vet? I recall you were very good with your rabbits."

Sif smiled. "Yes. I didn't know you were a doctor."

"I trained after I was sent to Missouri."

Sif frowned. She had so many questions. But she had to stay focused. She glanced at Vegard's face, still slack from the anesthesia. Even in his pitiful state he was still beautiful. And her mother was here.  And had saved him.

Her mother asked, "Is he your lover? You seem very concerned about him."

"It's a long story, ma'am. I mean, Honey... I mean..."

Honey's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Hm. I don't know of any other mother daughter teams at this temple. You can call me Mother if you want, although Honey is okay too. You're a grown woman."

Sif shrugged. "I don't know. This is all so confusing."

"I understand. Well, I think we are done for now. This screw will keep the ward from reintegrating; let's hope the drains work properly. I'm no expert in magic but this spell looks complicated. Very powerful." Sif's mother reached over to the I.V.s running into Vegard's arm to switch the drugs in his I.V. "Let's wake him up. He's safer if he's awake."

A second assistant moved forward to bandage the wound and Sif's mother turned away, stripping off her gloves and mask. 

Sif nodded and as the others began cleaning up she moved to Vegard's side and rested her hand on his arm. 

A few minutes later Vegard abruptly jerked awake, gagging and coughing on the ventilation tube. His eyes opened wide and the others rushed over to hold his arms down, to keep him from tearing the tube out himself. He struggled wildly against them.

Sif's mother moved quickly to the head of the stretcher and reached for the syringe to deflate the bladder holding the tube in place.  She said firmly, "Hush now. You just woke up from surgery. I'm going to remove the tube from your mouth but you have to lie still a moment so it is safe."

Vegard struggles became even more frantic, and his face went red, the vein in his forehead standing out as he gagged and choked on the airway.

Sif put a hand on his left shoulder. "Vegard? Can you hear me?"

Vegard abruptly went stiff a moment and then his entire body trembled violently as he shifted his gaze wildly between Sif and her mother. Sif ached for him and she said, in as reassuring a way as she knew, "Hold still. She's taking out the tube."

His eyes shimmered with fear and pain. Did he know who she was? Had he been oxygen starved so long his brain had been injured? She rubbed his arm and lied in Norwegian, "You're safe now, _storebror._ Everything is going to be okay."

 

* * *

 

While the others spoke to _the cat_ , Bård knelt next to Mouse, rifling his hand through the big dog's fur, pausing occasionally to pet the little squirrel from Sif's farm.

Bård was furious. His daughter was definitely in that big fortress. So close. What if someone was killing her right now while he sat out here with this... dog and squirrel? He clenched and unclenched his fist. He wanted desperately to punch something. But no Vegard meant no first aid for a broken hand. And he wasn't going to think about Vegard. Priorities. At least Bård had help now. And Harry was missing his daughter too. Harry wouldn't waste time unnecessarily, would he?

Bård glanced at the others and was surprised to see another one of the malkin approaching the group. This one was bigger than Calle's lisping friend Wadjet. This one was tiger sized. But without the mane, maybe a female? And it was wearing some sort of vest. Okay, cat in a vest. Sure.

It was followed by two other smaller malkin and the vampire Thomas. Mouse huffed a comment. So Thomas was Harry's brother? That was a little absurd, but it explained the resemblance. But, that didn't really matter. All that mattered was saving Nora and the others.

Harry spoke quietly to the newcomers and then beckoned Bård over to introduce him. "Bård Elviss-... uh... Illviss... Bård, this is the Wadjet Prime, Cat Bast. Bast is the leader of the pack of malkin helping us."

Instinctively, Bård reached forward to shake hands and realized his mistake halfway through. The cat had no hand to shake. He turned the gesture into a little wave. Lame. He said, "Bård Ylvisåker. I am pleased to meet you, Bast."

The big cat ducked her head in greeting and said, "I'm here to give you a mess _th_ age. One of the Wyrm's thralls _th_ left the fortress _th_ to deliver it."

Bård wondered if the big cats all spoke with a lisp. Maybe the big fangs made it hard to speak. "A message?"

Bast rocked back and sat on her haunches. She reached into one of the pockets of her vest/harness. What Bård had initially taken as front paws were more like hands complete with opposable thumbs. She withdrew two photos from the pocket and handed them to Bård.

The photos were old-fashioned Polaroid shots, the kind that printed out instantly. He'd had one as a kid. The first photo was of Vegard. He looked terribly pale and his hair was completely wild. He was gagged and seemed to be particularly angry with the person taking the photo. The ward over his right upper chest had a nasty white scar running through it. And there was something dark imbedded in the flesh. He looked bad but in Tokyo Bård had seen him in worse shape. And at least he was alive.

It took a moment for Bård to work up the courage to look at the second photo. He was terrified it would show Nora in a similar state. He let out a breath of relief. She was standing in front of a wooden panel in her bare feet wearing a plain white cotton dress and her neon pink silicone watch. She also looked angry and defiant, but not hurt or scared. He felt a surge of pride. She was a brave girl.

He looked up at the group, all watching him silently. He handed the photos to Harry and said, "It's Vegard and my daughter. What now?"

Wadjet-Bast said, "The S _th_ erpents _th_ want you to give yours _th_ elf up. In return they will releas _th_ e your daughter to our pack. If you do not do so within the next thirty minutes _th_ relative time they will begin torturing them both and will deliver more photographs _th_ as _th_ proof."

Bård nodded. "Let's go."

Harry put a restraining hand on Bård's shoulder. "It's a trap. They'll kill you and your brother _and_ your daughter. And they'll have you."

"If I don't go they'll hurt her anyway. I should be with her if they do."

"Think. Why do they want you? They couldn't have predicted you would come along. They stole a lot of children, not just yours."

  
Bård considered the question. "It must have been Vegard. They did something to his mark. Maybe they tortured him and he said something about me coming here. Or... you said this might have something to do with Bob. He might want revenge. I'm going."

Harry stepped closer and said softly, "If they knew they had my daughter they'd want me too. And I'd be willing to trade. I get how you feel."

Captain Luccio leaned in and added, "If a demon wants to take revenge on you, _amico_ , he will not make it an easy death. He will torture your daughter and brother to death in front of you and then torment you, maybe for centuries."

"You can't know that for certain."

She smiled grimly, "I have been battling demons for hundreds of years, among them lamia and serpent demi-Gods. I _do_ know that."

Calle, frowning at the photos of Vegard and Nora over Harry's shoulder, piped up, "So how do we rescue them from the big temple?"

Bast growled, "It will not be s _th_ imple. The Serpents _th_ have powerful wards _th_ in place that protect them from the malk; we have killed many of their kin _._ We believe they are trying to raise one of the old gods _th_ , and the gathering of tribute makes _th_  us believe it is an old, powerful god. Maybe Tiamat or Apophis _th_ or even another Jormungand."

Calle began to ask another question but leapt a meter into the air when behind him Romeo said, "There are wards against humans and vampires, too." He motioned at Thomas, who was grinning at Calle. Romeo added, "We found some little side doors but they're all warded."

Despite his anger, Bård had smiled when Calle startled. He'd also been caught off-guard by Romeo's sudden appearance, but Bård's response to surprises was always to freeze in place. He almost never startled, thanks in large part to years of training by Vegard, who had incessantly and randomly slapped or poked him for their entire childhood. Vegard was a good brother, but sometimes he was _kind of a dick._

Harry said, "I expected there'd be wards, and they obviously know we are out here. That makes things a bit more difficult."

Bast corrected Harry. "They know Bårdylvis _th_ åker is _th_ here. They know the malkin are here. They do not know you are all here. But Bårdylvis _th_ åker can enter without challenge. He has _th_ been marked."

"Just call me Bård. You say I'm marked? Do you mean the ward I got from Blueberry... Mothra?"

"Not the Earth ward. You are marked by the S _th_ erpent."

Ranger, who'd been leaning against a tree with his arms folded since Bast arrived, cleared his throat. He said solemnly, "The big cat means Bård's marked by Satan. He's one of The Called."

Bast gave Ranger a long stare, and held his gaze until Ranger frowned and looked away. She turned back to Harry. "Bård has _th_ been marked by the S _th_ erpent; the wards _th_ on the temple let those with the mark enter."

Harry rubbed his chin. "I used my wizard's sight on Bård; I didn't see any riders or external spells other than the ward on his chest. But I definitely saw a psychic scar."

Bård frowned. He wasn't surprised that he had a scar on his soul. But he thought it was more likely it was from Tokyo than from the spirit of the fire he'd seen in Illinois. It didn't matter to him where it was from. But if it helped him get to his daughter so much the better. He asked, "Does this mean I'm the only one that can get inside?"

Romeo cleared his throat again and said, "No."

Calle leapt into the air, again, startled. _"Helvete!"_

Beside Calle, Scout Wadjet tutted, "You mus _th_ t _try_ to pay attention."

Romeo nodded at Calle apologetically and repeated, "No, Bård. Your scar means  
you are the one who has to go in _first_."

Jones and Luccio glanced at each other. Luccio finally sighed and said, "Agent Reid is right. You have to go first. But we can show you how to neutralize the wards."

Bast said, "The malkin will not be able to enter the temple unless _th_ you completely destroy the wards _th_ , particularly those at the front gate."

Harry said, "Romeo, you're a sneaky bastard. You can go with Bård and Molly... uh... Lady Winter."

Molly said, "Me?"

"You're the best at cloaking spells. Jones, you any good with explosions?"

Jones bared his teeth and patted one of the packs on his vest. "I came prepared. But you want us blow the entrance and rabbit the kids out? That will be tough to do without attracting everyone's attention inside. Lamia are tough bastards."

Harry frowned. "And if they've got a deadman switch they could kill all of the hostages in an instant."

Luccio sighed, "They might trigger their tribute sacrifice earlier than they planned if forced.  They have a better chance at success with the raising ritual if they wait for the full moon, but they don't have to do so."

Harry looked speculatively at Bård. "Can you work magic without your brother?"

Bård felt a scream building up in his chest. Every minute delay was closer to Nora getting hurt. "Yes. But I only do attacks, he did the shields and healing. Let's just go."

Jones said, "Hold on, Bord, you can't do magic inside that old temple. You don't have control over your powers." Jones turned to Luccio and added, "He vaporized fifty yards of turf by accident; something like that happens to a load-bearing wall inside and he could bring the whole place down on all of our heads."

Bård pointed into the sky and hissed, "I've only lost control since we got to _this motherfucking place_. Usually I am in total control."

Harry held up a hand. "Hey, Bård, save your anger for the bad guys. He means you and your brother haven't had any practical training. Your brother almost put himself into a hypoglycemic coma the other day because he doesn't know how to draw power from his environment to power ectropic spells like healing or shields."

"But I don't have a problem like that-"

Jones slashed the air with his hand. "Yeah, you _do_ have a problem. After you pulled that stunt on the road you were confused as hell. The only reason you recovered quickly was precisely because you are in _this motherfucking place_."

Bård frowned. He remembered feeling a little drunk on the road after he'd accidentally destroyed the grass when Vegard was snatched away.

Luccio said gently, "You aren't as quickly affected by destructive magic because you automatically pull power from outside your body when you cast."

Molly added, "It's like the breath you take before a sneeze. It's a reflex. You'd have to cast a _LOT_ more destructive spells to make yourself sick.  Healing and shields don't have that."

Bård hid his dismay behind his most careful, neutral face. He didn't think he'd been doing that much magic, but he had made himself sick several times over the last year. He said hesitantly, but with less conviction, "We've been doing okay. But in the real world... not this... crazy place."

Jones said, "The point is that you can't depend on your spells to work as you'd like. You might hurt an innocent bystander. One of the kids in there."

Bård clenched his fists, determined not to let the others see him trembling. "You can't stop me from going in there with you."

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't try. But if Vegard's really in there and alive, can he help? Do the kind of things you two did back when we saved those three kids by the portal?"

Bård folded his arms tightly and worked his jaw. Finally he spat, "His ward was _fucked up_. Maybe they stole his abilities."

Harry folded his own arms to mirror Bård and countered, "The only way they can dampen Vegard's ability to work magic is if they wrap him in iron or stick him into running water."

Enough.  Bård was fed up with the magical rules and the ridiculous situation. _"Jesus Christ!_ We can't stand here arguing about this! I have to go now or they'll hurt my daughter."

Molly said quietly, "Harry just wants to know if Vegard has to be a hundred percent to do magic."

"He won't do any magic if a fucking snake eats him, which will happen if we don't go now!"

Calle put a hand on Bård's shoulder and said in Norwegian, _"A snake wouldn't eat Vegard."_

Calle's hollowed eyes met Bård's. If Calle looked that bad then Bård thought his own appearance must be horrifying. He let out a long breath and said unsteadily in Norwegian, " _You think? Sif always said he looked like a rabbit."_

_"But he doesn't smell like a rabbit. He's more... deodorant and hand lotion."_

Harry persisted. "Hell's bells, just tell me. Yes or no? Could he help us if he's injured?"

Bård's pressed his tongue against his bottom teeth, suppressing the urge to cry. He didn't know what to do and he was frantic for Nora and Vegard. But if he started crying he wouldn't be able to stop. And it would be pointless to cry if his daughter and brother and Sif and her kids were all alive. If they all could get out of this intact crying would be a waste of salt water. He'd just have to plow ahead. Priorities. _"Ja,_ yes, I think so. If I'm touching him."

Harry nodded at him sincerely. "Okay. Listen, we're going to rescue them. I'm as angry as you are. But like I said, channel it at the bad guys, not us, okay?"

"Okay."

"Jones, where's the nearest portal back to somewhere safe? Where we could evacuate survivors in a hurry?"

"Not far. Maybe half a klick to the west you came. But this temple was specifically built on a ley line intersection, wasn't it? There should be a good crossover point nearby, or even inside."

"Great!" Harry rubbed his hands together. "Okay. I have a plan. Other than Bård here, who wants to be Bård?"


	27. Seeing Double

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegard wakes up in a different room, Bård & Calle get vampire lessons & Nora finds her uncle.

Vegard tried again to call out to Bård but his throat was filled with dust.   He struggled to sit up and tried to cough out the grit, but he couldn't get a decent breath with all these snakes wrapped so tightly around his chest. He thought they were snakes;  everything was dark.  This was stupid.  How long had he been here?  Blueberry had said to remember Bob wasn't real.  He tried thinking himself awake.  No luck. _Jesus Christ._ where was all that screaming coming from?  If he could just cover his ears. 

The roar of wailing went on and on... he began to truly despair this would be his world for eternity... it was all just so... _boring._

A bell chimed in his right ear, and the voices began slipping past him, the screams and shouts distorted by the Doppler effect as they rushed past. He was being propelled forward toward a distant light. Faster and faster and faster until...

His eyes snapped open.  He was awake again.  Hopefully.  That was good.  He was reclining on his back, his head raised a little as if he were in a lounge chair. Where was he? He wasn't outside. He blinked up at the ceiling and opposing wall... everything was a bit blurry. His eyes felt so dry. Maybe this was another dream or illusion...

He startled as a dark shape loomed over him.

"Vegard? Oh thank the goddess."

Vegard tried to reply but his throat was so raw and dry he only managed to croak out, "Sif?"

Sif leaned over him and kissed his forehead. "You've been asleep so long;  I was getting frightened you would never wake up."

He mouthed, "Water."

Sif turned away for a moment and returned with a glass. She leaned in to support his head and put the glass to his lips. He felt a bit annoyed by the gesture. He could hold a glass himself.

Except he couldn't. His wrists were stuck by his sides. _Faen._

He took a long drag of water and rested his head back. After a few seconds of determined blinking he could finally see properly. He was in a metal hospital bed, the metal side railings raised, the head of the bed raised. His wrists were strapped to the bed with hospital restraints; he'd seen them before in Tokyo.

Sif nudged the cup to his lips again and he took another long pull of water. When she turned away he asked softly, "Where am I? The last thing I-"

She spun back towards him and clamped a hand over his mouth. She leaned in and said, "You mustn't make any sounds. The Serpents said you mustn't talk."

He frowned and tried to turn his head away but she held on tightly. She hissed, "Vegard, listen to me. They were going to cut your vocal cords, or cut a hole into your trachea. Your windpipe. Please don't speak. Don't make any noise louder than a breath or a whisper, do you hear me? I don't want to see you get crippled."

Vegard nodded slowly and Sif drew back. She glanced around and said, "We're alone here.  You probably have questions. I'll tell you what I can."

She relayed the story of what had happened after Lady Meret had almost killed him and explained what the surgeon had done to help save him. When she told him she'd found her mother, Vegard had let out an involuntary _"Hæ?_ " which led to a long minute with her hand clamped over his mouth while she whispered urgently that he had to be quiet.

She pulled away suddenly and looked at the door in panic.  There were muffled men's voices outside the door. She grabbed a cloth and began fastening it across his mouth. When he grunted in protest, she half-sobbed, "He's coming. Please don't make a sound."

The door swung open and an enormous golden snake with the body of an Egyptian pharoah glided in and over him, pushing Sif out of the way.  It leaned in, filling his vision with its distorted, golden face.  Vegard stiffened when it took hold of the sides of his head and gave him a lingering sniff with its flaring reptilian nostrils. Vegard held his breath; the thing carried the revolting smell of a zoo reptile house.

He heard a deep voice whisper in his head, _"You ssssmell... deliciousss..."_

Vegard almost laughed. This must be another dream.  Another pointless,  _boring_ dream.

 

* * *

 

"So how do I look?"

Bård made a face. " _Oi oi oi oi..._ like me. But you sound very odd. And you're a little too tall."

Calle grinned. The glamour Molly had woven to make him exactly mimic Bård tingled a little over his skin. He looked down at his hands, Bård's hands.  This was crazy.  He patted his own face ...Bård's face; it felt odd.  It reminded him of when he wore prosthetics and makeup for work: His face moved, but the muscles felt a little misplaced. He clapped himself on the chest and then down his belly; Bård was a bit stockier than he was. Just a little, but his arms and torso felt odd and moved a little faster than he expected. _Helvete_ , how often was Bård still going to the gym? He gripped one of his own... Bård's... biceps and flexed it, raising a brow at Bård 1.0.

Original Flavor Bård just shrugged.

Calle finished the self-exploration by cupping himself in one hand and saying in Norwegian, _"Too tall? Maybe I feel a bit... smaller."_

Bård half-smiled. _"Probably a lot smaller.  Stop touching your... my... penis.  The Americans will get the wrong idea."_

Calle groped a bit and said thoughtfully, _"It is an odd thing to feel your balls in my hand..."_

Bård's smile vanished. _"Stop."_

Calle grinned. _"Unnskyld."_

Behind Bård, Thomas said in his low, velvety voice, "Turn around, Calle. No, wait, not like that... turn around like Bård there would."

Calle looked slyly at Bård, straightened, leaned backward a little and turned, tossing his head when he faced forward again.

Thomas laughed. "I think you've got him down."

Calle smiled with Bård's face and then frowned and crossed his eyes, looking at his own nose. He said in Norwegian, _"Bård, your nose is too far away."_

_"Far away from what?"_

_"Your eyes. I can barely see the end. How do your glasses stay on with such tiny ears and such a distant nose? And your teeth feel very odd."_ Calle chomped his teeth a few times. _"The bite is off. How do you eat without chewing your own tongue?"_

Bård sighed and said in English, "Won't the monsters be able to tell Calle isn't covered with a big magical ward like I am?"

Harry pointed to the purple medallion Calle wore around his neck. "That's a ward too. Same kind of magic. Good enough to fool them for a few seconds. That's all we need."

Calle pulled at the medallion and peered down at it. Bård cringed. He didn't like the way he looked from the side.  He noticed it occasionally when he saw himself on video.  His jaw looked too old and... wrinkled. Well, it didn't have the baby fat he used to have. It hurt his vanity a little to think he was going to age just like everyone else.

He cursed himself; what an absurd thing to be thinking about. He'd be mortified if anyone knew he'd had such a petty private thought. Besides, maybe he wouldn't survive the day. A waste of mental effort to be worried about aging.

Harry was still talking. He said, "...other magic users would expect a really powerful wizard to hide some of his power. As long as Bård is actually nearby I don't think they'll notice. If we're lucky they'll just send out vanilla humans to bring you in."

Bård sucked in a breath. Focus. He asked, "If they take Calle inside thinking he is me, won't they be a little... upset when they discover the mistake?"

Calle frowned with Bård's face. "I thought the idea was that I wouldn't need to go in at all? I'd rather not get all my blood sucked out."

Harry sobered and said, "Are you a religious man, Calle?"

"Not really."

Harry glanced at Thomas and asked, "You getting anything?"

Thomas shrugged. "Someone loves him; I can't touch him."

The two Bårds glanced at each other and Thomas explained, "I'm sort of a lust vampire; I feed on sexual energy. But I can't touch someone who is truly romantically loved. If I were a blood-sucking vampire, I'd be preying on souls, so I wouldn't be able to touch anyone with faith."

Harry added, "Dracula-type vampires are scared off by crosses, but only if the person holding it has faith in the Christian god." He pulled out his own medallion, a silver pentacle. "This was my mother's; she was also a magic user. I have faith in magic. I can use this pentacle the same way as a Christian would use a cross to keep the vampires away.  A Jew could use a Star of David.  Make sense?"

Calle put a hand on his medallion. "This was given to me by Mio... Inanna... in Tokyo. It's Mothra's symbol."

Harry smiled. "Well it's sending out good juju. If you get in a pinch, don't forget you have it. Use it like a cross." He looked at Bård and added, "Don't forget you have that ward on your chest. It will work the same way. The lamia won't be able to get near it without being burned."

Bård absently ran his fingers along the edges of the ward peeking out from his shirt's collar. "I'm hoping they won't get close enough to me to try."

Romeo peered out from behind Calle and said, "We ready to go?"

Calle leapt forward, squeaking like a girl.

Romeo grinned. "That just never gets old."

 

* * *

 

Nora clawed desperately at the oversized scaled claws encircling her neck. The snake man lifted her off the ground, and she kicked at empty air as she choked out, " _Nei!_ No! Stop it! I can't breathe!"

Snake-Man drew her close and his pencil-thin forked tongue darted in and out, tickling her skin as he tasted her face. Nora grimaced with disgust, but the inspection only lasted a moment. When he set her back down on the floor she stumbled away coughing and rubbing her neck.

She glanced at the others. Honey and Manasa clutched each other, both wailing with terror. Roxanne stood alone, staring agape at Snake-Man; maybe she was in shock. Behind Roxanne, Jonas lay in a crumpled, motionless heap against the wall.

Samuel, the Nigerian boy, stalked toward Snake-Man and shouted, "You kidnap us, you keep us here, and now you come to terrorize and beat us?!" He gestured angrily at Jonas's body. "That is a mistake you should not make!"

His anger boosted Nora's courage. She turned to face the monster and added a loud, "Yes! Leave us alone or else!" She sounded braver than she felt.

She heard Honey shriek Jonas's name. Nora turned to find Honey had broken free from Manasa and now sobbed over Jonas's body.

Nora balled her fists, her fury reignited, and faced the monster. Snake-Man bobbed his upper body side to side like a cobra entranced by a snake charmer, studying each of them with his horrible yellow eyes.  It was horrible.

He focused on Nora and motioned at Jonas, saying, "The boy is _ss_ n't dead. But he killed my servant. Murdered him. Does _ss_ n't that bother you, Ylvis _ss_ såker? Or are you us _ss_ ed to s _ss_ eeing men murdered? Does _ss_ your clan rejoic _ss_ e in bloodshed?"

Nora gulped. The man with the clipboard was dead? He'd dropped to the ground at almost the same time Snake-Man had grabbed Jonas and she hadn't looked at her attacker. She turned back slowly.  The man's chest was a carved-out, blackened and still-smoking ruin. The corpse's lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. He was definitely dead. She ran to vomit in a nearby wastebasket.

Snake-Man hissed, "Interes _ss_ ting," and clapped his hands twice. Another two men entered the room, this time not in soldier fatigues but in simple white shirts and dark trousers. He said something to them in a language Nora didn't recognize and one of them, a dark-skinned man, nodded and dragged the dead man out of the room.

The second man was a younger redhead; he startled Nora by grabbing her shoulder and propelling her out through the double doors. Behind her, Honey shrieked her name.  The sound cut off when the door slammed shut.

The man tightened his grip on her upper arm as he pulled her along. Nora was confused and scared and still sick to her stomach. She thought of her father. When he had returned from Tokyo after saving the world he'd insisted she and Sofie take a self-defense course. She'd practiced with Sofie a lot, so she knew to twist away to break free. She tried it, but his hand slid down her arm and clamped firmly around her wrist.

He shouted, "Hold still!" and dug his fingers painfully into her skin.

  
Okay. She knew this one too. She dropped as dead weight to the floor and screamed and kicked at the man's knees until he lost his balance and fell heavily on his side. He'd let go of her wrist to catch himself. Heart pounding, she rolled to her feet only to run headlong into another much, much larger dark-haired man who lifted her up by the waist as if she weighed nothing. She clawed and kicked at his face but he effortlessly slung her over his shoulder and held her still with crushing strength.

That startled her into silence for a moment. Maybe it would have been smarter to go along quietly?   _Nei._ That was never what you were supposed to do. So she pounded on her captor's back with her fists until he took firm hold of her leg and said gruffly, "Stop struggling or I'll break your ankle."

She stopped struggling and stifled a sob. This had all felt like a horrible nightmare before. Like a bad dream, almost like a story out of Harry Potter. Seeing Jonas lying in a broken heap on the floor had made it real. Was Jonas dead?

And that dead man's wound looked just like the smoking holes in the dead wolves at Aunt Sif's house during the Titan attacks. Nora and Sofie had been _so sure_ Aunt Sif had killed those monsters with magic. But had it been Jonas all this time? Why hadn't he said anything? He always acted so meek. She felt a wave of guilt for teasing him so much. He'd never defended himself. And now... the monster had really thrown him hard. Jonas had been trying to protect her. And he'd gotten hurt or even killed. Because of her. She gasped out another sob as quietly as possible. She didn't want the man to know she was crying.

Draped over the man's shoulder, Nora's head started to hurt and she felt dizzy and her mouth filled suddenly with spit. She swallowed and said, "I'm going to vomit again!"

The man quickened his pace but didn't loosen his grip on her. They passed quickly through several halls with polished wood floors and shining statues and finally turned into a short hallway. They passed through a thick oaken doorway into a room with a dark wooden floor.

He pulled her off of his shoulder and set her on her feet in a corner by the door. He reached up to a shelf over her head and pulled out a plastic bag.   He gave it to her, saying, "If you're going to be sick, do it in the bag." He took a step back but still towering over her.

She complied and when she thought her stomach was empty she straightened.

Another man, a blond older man with very short hair, now stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the darker man and looked down at her expectantly. He took the plastic bag from her and handed her a wet washcloth.

She wiped her face and wedged herself as tightly as possible into the paneled corner. Her stomach churned, terror firmly settling in. She grabbed the top of the dark wainscoting for support. There was no way to escape these two men. Is this what had happened to all the other children? Had they been taken away and carried off to a little room to be murdered?

She glared up at her captors; the dark-haired man had little beady dark eyes and a mean, grouchy face that was pushed in like a pig's face. The older man was holding some sort of little metal box and looked bored. Maybe he was bored from having already murdered the other fifty kids.  They both stared down at her but didn't say anything.

She set her jaw and thought of her father. He'd killed the Midgard Serpent. That was crazy but he really did it.  And what about Harry Potter? He was younger than she was when he fought Valdemort. He overcame his enemies by standing up for himself and being brave. She knew Harry Potter wasn't real, but her teacher said all stories have a basis in truth. Maybe her father would have been Harry Potter if he were younger. And they'd read about Jean d'Arc in school. Jean been a kid and had led an army.

Nora decided she'd just have to stand up for herself and fight. She clenched her fists with newfound resolve. She was going to get away from these men and go back for Honey and Jonas.  She had to try.

She swallowed hard. The two men were between her and the door and whatever else was in this room. She glared up at the dark-haired man. Her voice only trembled a little when she asked in Norwegian, and then in English, "Why did you bring me here?"

The man raised a brow and glanced behind him. A deep voice said in English, "Let her see the patient."

The men stepped aside a little so she could see between them.

The patient was a man lying in an old-fashioned metal hospital bed.  The frame was partially covered in ugly pale green paint that was chipped and stained with rust at every join. It would have been perfect for a horror movie or video game. It seemed really out of place in one of the fancy rooms in this museum... or palace... or whatever this place really was. 

What about the poor man in the bed? She gasped with shock. It was Uncle Vegard.

Her uncle looked really, really bad. The head of the bed was raised and so he was partially sitting. But he'd been gagged with a thick white cloth that ran between his teeth and behind his head, and his wrists were strapped to the bottom of the bed's railings. It looked uncomfortable. Two bags hung from a tall metal pole, part of the frame of the bed, and they dripped dark fluid through tubing into his forearms. White sheets and blankets covered him from the waist down. But his naked chest was dotted with round stickers and wires that ran to a clicking machine that sat on a table next to the bed to his right. Worse, the tattoo on his right chest was ruined. A white scar ran through it and there was some sort of big metal coin stuck in the middle. Vegard's tattoo was just like the one her father had, and the tattoos normally glowed a shiny blue. But now the one on Uncle Vegard's chest was dark, like a normal dark blue tattoo. She knew those tattoos were really important and magical. If this had happened to her uncle, then where was her father? Her father would _never_ let this happen to Uncle Vegard. Even when they were really arguing they would still protect each other. Pappa told her that sometimes when she and Sofie had fights; he said sisters had to look out for one another.

The last she'd known Vegard and her father were in the USA. That was at least a week ago. She felt a sob fighting its way out again. Where was Pappa? Was he dead?

Her vision blurred and she bit her lip. She was no use to anyone if she freaked out. She choked out, "What did you do to him? And where is my father?"

They glanced at each other and shrugged. Nora gave up fighting her tears. These horrible men didn't even care! They did something terrible to her uncle and they acted as if nothing was wrong.  Was she next?  Was her father and all the other kids hurt like Vegard was?   She frantically tried to push past the horrible men and shrieked, "Where is he?! Pappa?!"

The men stood firm.

Vegard hadn't reacted to her scream. She cried out, _"Onkel Vegard? Kan du høre meg?!"_

Her uncle groaned and opened his dark eyes. But they rolled in every direction, as if he couldn't see. And if he could hear her he would have at least looked in her direction, wouldn't he?

She stretched an arm past the men, desperate to get through, but they pushed her roughly back into the corner. She called out again in Norwegian, "Uncle Vegard, can you hear me? It's Nora. Are you okay?"

That was a stupid question. He was obviously NOT okay; he couldn't talk and was blind and deaf and weird monster kidnappers who killed Jonas had tied him to a really scary bed from a horror movie.

She startled as the older man held up the gizmo he'd been holding and said, "So, it looks like you know this man." He hooked a thumb back toward Vegard. "Who is he to you?"

"Why?"

"Just answer the question."

She swiped at her eyes. "I... yes, he's my uncle. Is my father here also?"

"I'm going to take your picture."

Nora frowned angrily, "Why do you _murderers_ want my picture?"

"Just hold still."

Before she could protest the metal gizmo flashed and its servos whirred. Now she recognized the thing; it was an old-fashioned camera. A square card, the photo, spilled out the front of the camera and the two men leaned in to watch as it developed.   Nora tried vainly to look around them to see who else was in the room. She could only see Vegard, who still didn't seem to know she was there. After a few minutes the photo was evidently finished and the two men nodded to each other. They briskly left the room, without even looking back at her, and closed the door with a loud click. She immediately ran to follow them, but the door was locked.

She turned around slowly and sucked in a breath. She hadn't realized how big the room was, or how much of the room had been blocked by the two men's legs. Aunt Sif sat stiffly in the far corner staring blankly at a spot a meter or so in front of her. Was she a zombie or something?   Nora would have screamed if her mouth hadn't suddenly gone completely dry.  Aunt Sif the Zombie wasn't the scariest thing in the room.

The scariest thing in the room was the _gigantic_   Snake Man coiled on the floor. He had a big, shiny, deformed head and yellow eyes like the Snake-Man that had hurt Jonas. But he was much, much bigger than that Snake-Man had been. And he seemed _very_ interested in her. She shrank back against the wall until she was wedged in the corner again.  Whatever had happened to her aunt and uncle and all those kids, she was next.  She was trapped in a locked room with a real-life _monster._


End file.
